


Wanted Hearts

by Rhonu, TheRickyGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AND THIS HAS ART!!! :D, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Negan Being Negan, RP based, Slow AF Burn, but does NOT take place in the RDR2 universe, historical inaccuracies probably, loosely inspired by RDR2, sad depressed Negan, sad depressed Rick, the Wild West AU nobody asked for!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29090754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhonu/pseuds/Rhonu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRickyGrimes/pseuds/TheRickyGrimes
Summary: When fate decided to tangle their lines together, the bounty hunter Rick Grimes never thought he’d see the day where notorious gang leader, Negan Walker of the Saviors would become his ticket to a sizeable lot of money.On the hunt, side by side, will the two succeed in looking past their bloody history, and perhaps make a surprising future for themselves... or will they fall into old habits on the search for the psychotic mass-murdering group terrorising all whom they come across... the Whisperers.Time was always known to heal old wounds, but shall it prove its power in healing old, broken hearts?
Relationships: Negan/Lucille (mentioned), Rick Grimes/Negan, Rick/Lori (mentioned)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on an on-going RP between Rhonu (Negan) and TheRickyGrimes (Rick, obviously). As such, it will still have separate posts that are separated by a line. Please do not let that deter you from reading this, I promise it won't distract from the story itself. I've uploaded RP stories in this format before and I've never had any complaints. ^-^
> 
> All the art is drawn by us both, and we'll try to include at least one piece in every chapter (though the art may be added at a later date). You can also find us on tumblr @the-ricky-grimes and @rhonuscorner.
> 
> Thank you for giving this story a chance! We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy writing it.

[Click here for a big version of Rick's character sheet.](https://64.media.tumblr.com/eaff006d74834c8e82a329fbdbfa254c/d73ac021d53964ad-3e/s1280x1920/ef9142ec0560c5090ffb67f48be1a24b348eb907.png)  
[Click here for a big version of Negan's character sheet.](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e35e18d61d9aeea79b9455da8366fd42/6250b8fea9b80355-1a/s2048x3072/d800898daf90c88614d527dee976d50b75105557.png)

It wasn’t usually this quiet. Not even out here. The old coyotes that usually tailed the riders on the plains were silent, barks and ghostly yowls falling into an uncomfortable gloom. The crickets were quiet... hushed, barely topping the wind raking its way through the tall patches of grass, dotted across the sandy expanse of earth and soil.

They hadn’t been out here long... maybe a day since the last big town. Rick – that was his name – was a bounty hunter. A man that raced after wanted criminals in a bid to rake in some good amounts of cash. Anything of value. There was a sense of justice in it, knowing they were hauling in those who didn’t deserve freedom, those who had wronged others.

Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh... that was his friend. His best friend. His partner. It would sound childish under any other circumstances, but out here in times like they were? Calling someone a friend was a luxury that wasn’t taken lightly. People needed people. The two had brought in their lion’s share of criminals, bringing them in for a good sum, leaving them in the just hands of the law. It wasn’t really his business _what_ they did with the criminals... they all had the same end more or less. A prison sentence, or a short drop and a sudden stop.

That’s what had happened a couple of days back. The two hunters had finally brought in a small group of criminals. Thieves and gunmen. They’d raided so much from towns far and wide. The duo received words of praise from the townsfolk on their way back, riding in, trailing the bound men behind them. It wasn’t more than a few hours maybe, when they hung the first man.

Rick hadn't paid much mind to it... it was the way. Wasn’t his business, but it always left a sour taste in his mouth. The man had bawled out words of desperation, pleading for mercy. The words would fall on a crowd of deaf ears, up until the hatch dropped and the fibrous stretch of rope scraped at Rick’s ears. There was no guilt in this... no regret, right? It was his job... and he’d never failed a job.

Maybe that’s why the conversation afterwards was always so dry. Just about as dry as the dust that their pair of stallions kicked up on their way out.

“Another batch...” Shane would utter, inviting conversation.

“Yeah... money’s slimmer than last though. Bastards are holdin’ out on us...” Rick would reply, clutching his small bag of coin. Everything was worth something though... something to send back. Shane gave a subtle smile, squinted eyes lifted to the horizon. The company the two shared was more valuable than words exchanged.

A day’s travel had brought them here, camped up in as much comfort as the dry lands of tumbling weeds could offer. Dusky and dry. Far too quiet. The orange flames of their fire licked at the air, crackling and spitting as Rick tossed a tight bunch of roughage onto the pile. If it wasn’t for that creeping chill at the back of his neck, he’d join Shane in lazily dozing against a bunched pile of gear. Their horses stood unsaddled, secured to an old branch long forgotten in time, bark flaking into the earth.

What was it, that sudden chill... that sickness? They were being watched. Eyes of blazing blue still trained on the balling flames, he slowly edged a calloused hand over his hip, mouth running dry. Hazing behind where the light couldn’t reach, figures lingered. Dancing. Waving. The low rumbling of what he presumed was distant... no... it was so much closer.

_Thud... thud thud... thud..._

His heart was drumming- throat hoarse as his free hand slowly reached for his partner, still snoozing without a care in the world. “Shane... Shane, wake up. There’s-“

Suddenly it was a blur. Rushing figures, storming around them like swarms of ravens. Black. Dark. Rough hands gripped his forearms, an arm wounding tight around his neck. The bounty hunter gave a startled yell, a bark in an attempt to alert Shane, but he too was overpowered, yelling and thrashing as he was soon engulfed in black figures.

The horses whinnied and fretted, tugging at their ropes as Rick caught a glimpse of large figures reaching for them, steadying them. The fire was stomped out, amber flames swallowed by the dusky blackness of the plains. It grew cold. Grasping hands now pulled at his form, pulling his trusty revolver from its holster. He tried to haul the attackers off of him, muscles straining against the crushing weight, feral snarls and yells forcing out of his lungs. It was in vain. Blinded by a rag, scratching at his stubble and skin, he was shoved forwards, stumbling as he called out.

“Get your hands off o’me! Shane! Shane!”

-=-=-=-

“Boss.”

It was dark inside the tent, save for a single lantern casting a soft glow around him, but the moon was out, bright and round up in the sky, casting enough pale light that Negan could see the silhouette of one of his people behind the canvas.

He didn't answer right away, merely watching the man squirm on his feet as the silence dragged on. The burning tip of the cigarette between his lips burned bright for a few short seconds as he inhaled, pulling the bitter smoke into his lungs and holding it there before slowly allowing it to escape back into the air.

His chair creaked under his weight as he shifted, the back of his worn boots scraping against the rough wood of the crates he used as a makeshift table; most of his belongings had already been packed up and stored in one of the wagons. They'd be leaving this area soon, all that was left was packing up the last few remaining things and his tent, as soon as he finished this one last thing.

Lucille was a comfortable heavy weight in his lap, all smooth wood and metal, except for the engravings that ran around the length of the barrel. His thumb stroked over the silver etchings as he took another drag of his cigarette, and behind the canvas the silhouette shifted again. “Boss? You in there?”

He could tell from the gravely and somewhat hoarse tone of his voice that it was the older Dixon brother, Merle, one of the men he'd sent out to track down those bounty hunters a few days ago. If Merle had returned it meant one of two things; they'd succeeded, or they had failed.

“What?” he growled out.

“We got 'em, boss. Both of 'em. Got 'em trussed up outside for ya.”

True enough, there was a lot of loud commotion going on outside, excited yelling and whooping, drowning out the whinnying of the horses. Good. Very good. “I'll be right out.”

Merle left and Negan sighed, his fingers tightening around the weapon in his lap. There were days where it was hard to keep going, to get out of bed and face the day, another day without her. Her death had affected all of them, especially those who had been with him the longest. They'd known her too for many years and they knew how much he was struggling to cope now that she was gone. Fortunately he could continue to rely on their support and loyalty... Negan didn't think he could last much longer if he didn't have that at least. And Lucille would've wanted him to keep on going, to keep being strong, a leader to them all. But it was hard... so very hard. It hadn't even been a month since she...

Gritting his teeth Negan swung his legs down to the ground and stood up, hoisting Lucille up to rest on his shoulders. He knew the others were waiting for him to come out and he'd dragged this out long enough.

Heh, Lucille always used to say he had a flair for the dramatics.

Shoving the flaps of his tent open Negan stepped outside and sure enough, there they were. Two men, bound and blindfolded, shoved down on their knees in front of him, guns pointed at the back of their heads. The excited murmuring quieted down in an instant when all eyes turned to him.

He wondered if those two had any idea why there were here. Surely they had an inkling? Men like that who earned a living wage by capturing those the law deemed 'villainous' just because they refused to conform to said law, which had been pushed down all of their throats unasked. Just because they refused to kneel for the government and be its mindless slaves. And so you got men like these two, capturing others to drag them towards their death for monetary gain.

It was more despicable than anything he'd ever done in his lifetime.

Negan nodded at Simon, who reached out and grabbed the burlap sack over one of the men's heads, pulling it off while Merle did the same with the other. One was clean shaven with dark hair and dark eyes full of fury and disgust, the other had a mop of brown curls and startling blue eyes, but held an expression he couldn't read so easily. Didn't matter. One of them was gonna die tonight, and Negan didn't give one flying fuck which one of the two would end up biting the bullet.

The bright light of his cigarette reflected back in his own eyes, hidden beneath the shadow cast by his hat, two bright pin pricks of glowing orange in a sea of black. Smirking Negan dropped the cigarette onto the ground and dug his heel onto it to snuff it out.

“Welcome, gents, t' _my_ world. We're gonna be havin' one hell of a time tonight. Which one o'you pricks is the leader?”

-=-=-=-

Rick wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Wasn’t sure how many times he had stumbled over cracks and rocks that dug into the dusty earth. Hours? Couldn't have been long, it was still dark out. The dull fits of protest he heard could only be Shane, close behind him. Every time he tried to turn or shake the sack from his head, he received a sharp jab to his ribs, kicking the air right out of him. Murmurs. Whispers. Laughs and yells. They were coming from everywhere. Only a few words were truly distinguishable though. _Bounty... payback... dead men walking._ Rick didn’t recognize the voices, didn’t pick up on familiarities. But he had a hunch. If he was right well... this would be rough.

The grit dug right into his knees as he was shoved down, the buckles on his boots clinking together as he jumped to push up again – that was until he felt the cold metal of a gun ghost over his head. Lowering back down he felt a heavy weight lean against him. Shane. Breathless, grunting and still cursing at the attackers.

“Fuckin’ who are you people?!” he snapped, causing Rick to wince under the sack. Not the best idea to go ranting and raving around people like this.

Suddenly the bags were torn from over their heads, not failing to scratch thin lines over their cheeks. Still dark. Dusky. That comfortable low light was now replaced by an eerie scene. A camp? Bigger camp than he’d seen in a while. Canvas tents and an array of sacks and bags piled like walls, a duo loading them slowly into the back of an open wagon.

Cool eyes pierced through the dark, flitting around as Rick tried to take in as much as he could... before his eyes came to rest on a towering figure not far in front of them. The lingering scent of tobacco drifted around them, one thing that Rick wasn’t all too fond of.

It took perhaps a few moments for Rick to figure out who this figure could be, why there were here... and then it clicked that maybe their last delivery to the town was one that held particular weight around these parts.

Eyes following the embers as they were trodden into the earth, Rick raised his head, steadying his posture and squaring his shoulders as he refused to let attempts at intimidation get through. There was something about not quite meeting the man’s eyes, all but two sparks in a pitch black gloom... it ran a chill through the bounty hunter. The faint glow of the moon painted what wasn’t pitch black dark with ghostly hues of white, like they were dusted in a pale tint, few features glinting in the spotlight.

Shane spat out a bark in response, eyes full of fury. “Your world my ass, I-“ His usually level drawl was halted as the gun-wielding figure behind him gave a not so subtle prod. Shane was one to puff out his chest. This wasn’t the time. Not with guns trained so close to their skulls.

“S’Me... I take the lead n’things... you got a complaint about our services, you talk to me.” Rick spoke in a surprisingly silky tone, like this didn’t phase him in the slightest. Still he had to be smart... had to be brave. His head was raised, tilted back slightly as icy eyes gleamed in the lingering light of distant lamps. Maybe it was the cheek of his words that amused a few in the group surrounding them, or maybe it was his naive sense of courage... all that he knew was by the sounds of it... they were beyond outnumbered. Straining against the binds that were wrapped so tightly around their wrists, Rick teetered slightly in position. Uncomfortable was an understatement.

“So what can I do for you, _prick?_ ” he finished, tilting his head to the side a fraction in a bid to soothe a knot, tight in his neck from their less than comfortable journey here, imitating the dark male that stood in front of them.

It wasn’t until then did he really take in the large weapon that rested against the man’s shoulder. It glinted like a silver star, taunting him. What was it about it that made him so... uneasy? His silent question was answered when a slight shift made the moon’s glow rain onto a distinct pattern, engraved expertly into the smooth metal. That mark... that coiled pattern of what looked like thick trails of wire. Whispers on the wind spoke of a symbol like that. He’d soon see if rumors proved to be true.

-=-=-=-

“I do have a complaint. A pretty significant one.”

They both had bite, even bound and on their knees with a dozen weapons trained on them. Negan couldn't decide if they were courageous or just that monumentally fucking stupid... he suspected it was the latter.

Ignoring the question and the name-calling Negan huffed and turned to his second in command instead. “They had anything of interest on 'em?”

Simon nodded and held up a leather shoulder bag, Gavin stepping up next to him with a second one. “Not a whole lot, saddlebags were mostly empty but there's probably some interestin' stuff in these. Figured you'd want to take the first look.”

Hell yeah he did. Simon held the bag up for him and Negan unlatched the buckle, flipping it open and began rummaging inside; most of what he found was the usual, cans of food, strips of beef jerky, additional ammo but before long his fingers closed around something small and hard, encased in leather. Pulling it out Negan stared at the coin pouch in his palm, the coins within jingling together – music to his ears! – and he raised his eyebrows. Was this the payment they'd received for capturing three of his men and leading them to their execution? Probably.

Next he found a piece of paper bound in leather to protect it, some kind of an official document, signed and stamped and everything, and Negan scoffed when he realized what it was. A bounty hunter license. So these assholes were actually the real legit deal, and not just random men who thought to make a quick buck by picking up bounty posters at the local sheriff's office? Well shit. The name read Rick Grimes, and upon checking the other bag Negan found a second document, identical to the first one, licensing one Shane Walsh.

Huh.

“I'm gonna take a gander and guess _you_ are Rick.” he said, meeting cold blue eyes again as he motioned for Gavin to take both bags and store them in one of the wagons. “You don't mind I call you Rick, do ya? I feel like formalities are wasted in this particular situation. You see... I have a problem, and that problem is I lost three of my men. Word has it they were hanged a couple a days ago. Now how do you think that happened?”

He let the question hang for a few second, letting the silence drag on as he paced around in front of the two hunters. Everyone knew the answer of course, including those two. “Losin' people really puts me on fuckin' edge, y'know? Does my mood no favors, it really fuckin' sucks. And _you two..._ cost me three of my people. _Not. Cool._ Not cool at all, and for that, well... ya gotta pay.”

Coming to a halt Negan slowly knelt down in front of them and removed Lucille from his shoulder, holding her in a loose fist where the two hunters could get a good look at her. He'd seen the way the blue-eyed one – Ricky Fucking Grimes – had been eyeballing her earlier, like he recognized her... surprising considering that a month ago she'd still been Lucille's main weapon of choice. Ever since her death though... well, coping with such a heavy loss apparently wasn't something he handled well, and he may have taken his rage and sorrow out on quite a number of innocent people, using this particular weapon... and rumors spread fast, so maybe he shouldn't be surprised that Rick seemed to recognize the weapon.

“You like my girl, Ricky?” he asked, his tone soft and inquisitive. “I saw you eyeballin' her earlier. She's a real beauty, I know.” He held the shotgun up so Rick could get a better look, and slowly ran his gloved hand down the length of the barrel, fingers trailing the silver engravings of barbed wire etched in the dark metal. “This is Lucille. And she. Is. _Awesome._ Take a good look, _prick._ Both o'ya, because mark my fuckin' words, I'm gonna shoot the holy hell outta one o'you and she will be the last thing you're ever gonna fuckin' see.”

Chuckling softly Negan rose back onto his feet and stepped back, allowing some time for the words to really sink in. These two assholes needed to get the message he was trying to drill into their heads. “This is how it's gonna go. I'm not completely unreasonable, so I'm gonna give you two assholes a couple a minutes t' decide among yourselves who's gonna be takin' one for the team. Ya gotta make a choice though. If you don't I'm just gonna kill both of ya. But I'm givin' _one_ of you the chance t' live t' see another sunrise, and considerin' that you cost me _three_ lives, I'd say that's pretty fuckin' lenient! So. Make a choice, I'll wait. Tick tock.”

-=-=-=-

Anger gnawed at Rick’s stomach as their bags were rummaged through, picking at their belongings like a scurry of rats. Letting his head drop, a mess of curls hanging over his eyes, he caught sight of his partner in the corner of his eye. Shane’s face was still twisted in anger, still gritting his teeth like he was pushing down the urge to storm forward even if that meant taking a few loads of bullets in the back of his skull. Rick wasn’t much different, but take a look around! What would that do now? Even if they managed to rip into the leader, the rest would tear them to pieces, no hesitation.

Their eyes met, anger clashing with the same uncertainty that gave you goosebumps. How they’d get out of this one, well... that was beyond them. With the ruffle of old papers, their identities were confirmed. It was the one thing they had to keep on them at all times... didn’t prove the best protection when met with scenarios like this. May as well have painted a big red cross on their backs.

Lifting his gaze as his name was uttered, Rick’s only response was a twitch of his bright blue eyes, the faintest scowl on his weathered face as the suspicions surrounding why they were there, were confirmed. At the time, the men were just names on a poster, with a price to go with it. Wanted. Hell, the way the older male said it almost sounded like he was trying to paint them as wrongfully punished.

That scent of tobacco and a faint, musky cologne seemed to grow stronger when Negan knelt down in front of the two hunters, the sound of a metal buckle clinking in his ears. Thanks to the shift, Rick could finally take in the leader’s appearance - well most of it... the hat still cast a blanket over a pair of dark and dangerous eyes. He saw a face similar to his own, weathered by the plains, the face of a man who had seen and most likely _done_ things that you’d tell in a tale to make children behave. _The real bogeyman and all that._

That little nickname was already making Rick’s skin crawl. The metal of the shotgun glinted like a polished stone in a creek, catching in his eyes. The pattern was scratching at him, bugging him, the whispers he’d heard. The wives of townsfolk spreading rumors like a disease, each adding their own little spin on the man. How those patterns were the last some saw, barbed wire pricking at their eyes as they slowly bled out, blown to bits. Some ridiculous stories spoke of how the wire would reach out like the devil.

Tch. _Pure and utter bullshit bought by children up past sundown._

Then the threat came. The threat that one of them would lose it all tonight, the last of them sprayed into the earth, blasted beyond recognition. The partners exchanged worried glances, pale as the choice was laid in-front of them... they’d be the ones to decide which would die. Which horse would go without a rider.

It all felt cold, an icy ball in the bottom of Rick’s gut. Surely Shane felt that same weight. It almost made him feel like he was on death’s door.

When he cast a slightly less enraged look to Shane, it startled him how set his expression was. Scared, angry- no _enraged_ \- but... so sure... of something. A motive hid behind Shane's dark eyes. A stranger could see what he was thinking. His thoughts may as well have been streaming in bold italics.

Rick started to shake his head, words not quite coming out. There was no way, absolutely no way he’d let Shane throw himself down like that! Why would he anyway?! The guy was thriving. Well, as much as you could thrive from hopping town to town.

“Shane... don’t you even-“

“Can it, Grimes.” Shane barked, his voice quietening down into a low rumble. The words filled Rick with hopeless pity, Shane’s voice a whisker away from incoherent. Mentioning family was risky, so it was said with caution. “You... got people...“

“You do too, Shane-“ Rick interrupted, turning those blazing blues of solid ice back to Negan. Two pale blue stars in the sea-like void. Sure he had people... he had kids but, Shane was like an uncle to them! They adored seeing him when the two could finally visit. Besides... they were in safe hands at the ranch... they were safe and he wasn’t prepared to watch his friend die. He wouldn’t lose part of his family like that. Call it selfish... but the guilt would haunt him.

“Those men were guilty of crimes. Gunmen and thieves. What happens to them ain’t our problem. Our job ain’t kind but we ain’t murderers. We take those men and the law deals with 'em.” he barked, tone low and raspy, a stark contrast to his silky imitation beforehand. Shane was beside him, dark brown eyes boring into the side of his friend’s head. Merle close beside Rick stirred, jaw set as he exchanged the weight from foot to foot, murmuring under his breath. A few other members stirred too, disgruntled by the bounty hunter disregarding what he had done, trying to slide the blame off of their shoulders. Maybe the gang was more close-knit than he first assumed.

The fellow hunter beside him let his head fall, shoulders slouching. “Rick, just don’t... I-I’ll-“ Shane stammered, straining against their binds, rope creaking as the fibers stretched before slacking again. “Me. We choose me. Just leave him be-“

Again Rick tried to interrupt, leaning up as if he was set to stand. Merle didn’t take the chance and pushed a firm hand down, crushing his shoulder and shoving him back onto his knees with a thud. “Watch yer’self, boy. You stay right there.” he warned, gravelly tone grating at his Rick’s nerves. A couple of armed men stepped an inch or two forward. Tetchy. But they knew better than to jump at the chance without the say of their leader. They knew to wait. Respect and perhaps intimidation kept them from going without Negan’s orders.

-=-=-=-

Negan knew that it was an impossible thing he was asking them to do, to force two people to decide among themselves which one of them would live and which one would die. Contrary to popular belief, Negan actually didn't take any pleasure out of this. It might look that way, he was skilled at putting on a show, but there was no enjoyment to be found in torturing other people. There were plenty of people out there who were far more disturbed than him, and while he would never say that he was a good person, at least he knew he still had his limits, lines he wouldn't cross. They had rules he wouldn't allow anyone to break on penalty of death.

He killed when he had to, and to keep his people safe he was perfectly willing to be vicious. To be cruel and without mercy. It was them against the world and there was no room for regrets or second guessing. This was the card they'd been dealt.

One of his eyebrows arched up as the blue-eyed hunter – Rick – tried to make a case for them. Oh we were just doing our job, the people we captured were murderous criminals, we didn't do anything wrong and we didn't kill them.

Oh fucking boo-hoo. Just because they hadn't personally pulled the lever and made 'em drop with a rope around their necks didn't mean they weren't responsible. They fucking were. “Consequences, Ricky.” he fired back. “You chose this job, you choose the consequences. And _this_ is a consequence. Fuckin' man up and accept it, like your buddy here.”

Brave, that one, offering himself up like that to save his friend. That didn't mean Negan would make it quick – he still had a point to make here – but he could respect that kind of bravery, to look death in the eye like that. He nodded at his second in command; Simon put his pistol away and grabbed Shane by the arm, Daryl walking up to take the other and together they hoisted him onto his feet.

Shane was a tall man with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, rivaling him in height. Not that that mattered. He kept his head raised, glaring back at him with dark unforgiving eyes swirling with hatred and disdain. Negan huffed in amusement. “Jesus...” Had he been a lesser man that glare would've melted the skin right off of him. “I think I'm almost glad it's you, pal. If I killed your friend here instead I have no doubt you'd hunt me down 'til the end of the world.”

But it wasn't gonna be Rick, so...! Without another word or warning Negan took quick aim, squinting down the sight and pulled the trigger, the deafening bang of the slug drowning out Shane's agonized scream of pain as it tore through muscle and bone and blew them apart, shattering his kneecap and nearly blasting his right lower leg clean off. Blood splattered onto the grass below.

Chuckling low under his breath Negan lowered his weapon as Daryl and Simon promptly let go of Shane, and watched the man drop down onto his back like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “I forgot t' mention,” he mused as he stepped closer, ignoring Rick for now – Merle had him under control, one hand fisted in Rick's shirt, the muzzle of his pistol pressed against his temple - “Lucille here packs a _real_ punch.”

Pressing his boot down on Shane's sternum Negan leaned forward, pushing his weight down and onto the man's chest, and for a few moments he did nothing but listen to him wheeze for breath. His face was devoid of mercy, his lips curling up into a small smile as he pushed the muzzle of his shotgun against Shane's right shoulder. “Take a deep breath now, Walsh. One... two...” _**BLAM!**_

A couple of the men around him cheered and whooped as Shane's scream tore through the night's air, bright red blood splattering over the dead grass and soaking into the dry dirt beneath. “Goddamn, would you look at that!” Negan grinned and straightened, letting out a low whistle. “Your arm's still attached even after all that, I'm losing my fuckin' touch here.”

He stepped away from Shane, opening Lucille's chamber and reaching for his belt to retrieve two new slugs. “What do you think, Ricky?” Negan took his sweet time reloading, and shot Rick a glance. “Should I finish it off with the next one? Put him outta his misery? Personally I think he can take two more but I'm open t' ideas.”

-=-=-=-

If it wasn’t for the weight bearing down on him, Rick would have risked a bullet to run to his friend’s aid. Everything was distant when they hoisted Shane up. He made sure to remember their faces... each and every one of them. His muscles ached, clothing taught as he pushed up hopelessly, getting nowhere. They should have been more careful, stayed at a town, somewhere safe! But no, Rick had to insist they move out... this was his fault. Not Shane’s.

But all his words were since lost, throat constricted and dry as he watched helplessly as Shane squared his shoulders and stared down the attacker like it was nothing. There was a blaze in those dark eyes. A raging fire of fury with a tall frame to match. He couldn’t lose his friend. Not here. He couldn’t-!

It was probably true... when it came to sheer strength, maybe Shane was the guy meant to lead. But he'd still followed him. Shane trusted him... and look where that brought them.

_Hunt him down..._

Oh hell. If Rick lived to see another sunrise, he’d sure to god run the devil of its feet to track Negan down. He made that promise. Desperation was spiked by a flicker of intense fury, but once the defeating blow rang in his ears-

“S-Shane! SHANE!” the hunter bawled out, voice taught and straining as he all but screamed his partner’s name. Dark, thick red ropes cascaded onto the earth below, almost seeming like black gouts of ink in the misty moonlight. That sickening crunch of splintering bone and cartilage... it made Rick’s stomach turn.

The younger of the two heaved forwards, pulling at the grip that kept him in place and let out a rushed huff of air as he was jerked back, his shirt tight around his throat as Merle held him secure. He could smell the thick aroma of cheap booze coming from the man as he uttered a few dangerous words of warning. The earth was crumbling below him, knees twisting into the soil as a cold end of a barrel pressed uncomfortably hard into Rick’s skin.

Pain was beyond what he could describe what he saw. Suffering. Agony. How Shane was dropped so carelessly, so much so that the tattered shreds of sinew audibly whipped at the floor. That anger boiled up, thrumming in his ears and in his chest as he saw Negan press his boot firmly onto Shane’s chest. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of this!

Another shot. **BLAM!**

Rick could feel his stomach turning, chest tight enough to make it so every breath was a struggle. What could he do? How- how could stop this?

In such swings of emotion, Rick wasn’t bothered by the tears that had started to well in his eyes, brimming those baby blues. He held them back, forced back the tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. An eye twitched, casting a deathly glance up at the outlaw who was shamelessly blowing his friend into literal bits and pieces. How the gang leader dared to spin this into him.

“You f-fuckin’ bastard! You SCUM!” he barked, voice wavering as he reared back his head. A risky jerk of movement. The crunch that followed, the grunt and yell of pain as he assumed Merle’s nose had just been well and truly broken. His assumptions were confirmed when the captor tightened his grip, barking a curse back with a raspy chuckle. Still he didn’t let go, didn’t so much as budge. If anything Merle's grip grew into a vice, lessening it only for a mere moment before a strong arm slung around his throat, tucking under his chin so his head was brought up, forced to keep focused on the nightmarish scene before him.

He caught a pair of eyes, glistening, almost shining in the darkness. Everything slowed down, Rick swore he could hear the crickets in the bushes.

_Shane..._

There he was... his friend... his partner... hell, the guy was like a brother to him. And this... this was all Rick’s doing. The crushing guilt made Merle’s choke-hold look like a tap on the shoulder.

The poor man’s chest was heaving, stains of red already drying into his clothes and flaking onto his skin.

He wanted this to end... he couldn’t watch it anymore. That look snapped him in two.

“P-Please... please just...” His posture laxed, sagging against the man behind him, muscles ceasing the struggle. Locks of tangled hair swayed in the slight breeze that was picking up, silvery stubble catching what little light there was. Soft shades of pale blue and bright yellow. “Don’t make 'm suffer any more o’this...”

God that stung like a bitch. The fact that it was a more favorable choice to just kill Shane quickly. No medic could save him now. At least his friend could still see the small dots of stars. The stars they’d followed all those nights... _look at the stars, Shane... look at the stars._ Rick wheezed his friend’s name, catching at the back of his throat as the tears stung in the corner of his eyes. Still he didn’t let them fall. He wouldn’t shed a tear infront of Shane. This was bravery... this was courage... it deserved bravery in return.

-=-=-=-

“Aww, ya breakin' my damn heart here, Ricky.” Negan chuckled and leaned back, his gloved hand coming up to rest over his heart in a mocking gesture of shock. Wait, was Rick crying? There were no tears but his eyes definitely held a wet sheen to them. Then again, it wasn't at all surprising and Negan honestly couldn't really blame him for it... it was a horrible thing he was putting these two through for sure and it sure wasn't easy to watch your partner getting blown to bloody bits and gory chunks of flesh.

Negan finished reloading and nodded at Merle, watching the blood streaking down his lips and chin. Rick had clearly broken his nose with that little stunt of his and under normal circumstances there would be a penalty for that buuuut... considering the circumstances he could probably let it slide this time. Grimes was already having _such_ a terrible day.

“You okay, Merle?” he asked and the man grunted, shifting on his feet to better his grip on the distraught bounty hunter.

“Jus' peachy, boss. No worries, I still got 'm. 'E ain't goin' nowhere.”

Okay then! Negan turned his attention back to downed hunter on the ground and huffed; somehow the man was still conscious, which was impressive, but Negan wondered if he was still aware of things happening around him. With two big nasty open wounds Shane was losing blood quite rapidly and with the way he shook and trembled told Negan that his body was going into shock; if they left him like this he'd probably bleed out in the next five minutes.

Snapping his fingers Simon hauled Shane up again, Daryl lending a hand until the hunter was more or less on his knees. Well. _Knee,_ hehe. Shane's head lolled forward, weak and frail, and he didn't resist when Negan stepped forward and pressed the muzzle of Lucille against the left side of his skull. There wouldn't be much left of his head after this next shot, and from this angle... hm. “You're in the splash zone, you mind?” he asked, glancing up at Merle again, and the man snorted.

“Not if you buy me a new shirt.”

Pfft. “Fair enough.” he chuckled. Pressing a little harder Shane's head tipped to the side with the force of it and weakly wheezed for breath, and even in the faint light of the moon, and the light coming from their campfire lightning up the camp Negan could see how pale he'd become, his skin taking on an unhealthy, sweaty sheen.

“You know you're the lucky one?” Negan asked quietly. Shane barely responded but that was okay, Rick could hear him too. “It will all be over for you in the next few seconds, but your buddy? He's gonna have t' live with this for the rest of his life, knowing that your blood is on his hands too. That's goddamn harsh. And for what it's worth, Mr. Walsh... you have my respect. It took courage t' offer yourself up the way you did t' save your friend, no hesitation. It's an admirable thing, and I won't forget it.”

His finger tightened around the trigger and he saw Simon brace himself- _**BLAM!!**_

It was like he'd expected; the hunter's skull burst apart at the seams, exploding outwards and splattering brain matter and bone fragments into the air, most of which hit the other hunter in the face. Simon cursed and dropped the body, staring down at the blood staining his shirt – even though he'd been standing on the other side he hadn't quite escaped the splash zone either. Hell, neither had Negan, not nearly as much as Rick and Merle and even Simon, but blood had splattered up into his face as well, small droplets clinging to the rough bristles of his beard.

“Son of a bitch.” Simon grumbled and Negan couldn't help but laugh heartily at the disgruntled expression on the man's face.

“Fuckin' relax. You can buy a new shirt with the money we got from these two.” Motioning for Merle to let go of Rick Negan straightened and handed Lucille over to a woman with long grey hair, who stepped forward to take the weapon from him. “And now that that's outta the way... show's over, everyone start packin' up the last of our shit, we're leavin' in twenty minutes!”

The other members of the gang dispersed until it was just him, Rick, and Shane's corpse. Rick's hands were still bound and Negan had no intention of removing the ropes until they were ready to leave. Rick wasn't a threat anymore, but he'd keep an eye on him just in case.

Reaching into his satchel Negan pulled out a packet of cigarettes and removed one, stuffing it back and taking out a single match. “He said you got people, that that's why he wanted it t' be him and not you.” He nudged Shane's legs with the toe of his boot and lifted his foot, striking the match against his sole to spark a flame. “You got family, Ricky? Kids?” he asked as he lit his cigarette, waved the match around until the flame died and flicked it over his shoulder. A thin trail of smoke trickled up into the air, carried away by the soft breeze blowing in from the south. “Relax, I'm not goin' after them. I'm jus' curious.”

-=-=-=-

The patronizing tone that Negan bared just proved another pin in Rick’s chest. Tch. _Ricky._ He felt helpless in this, for once he couldn’t rush in to help, couldn’t save anyone. It should have been him, should have been Rick who was facing this hell. Though he couldn’t tell what was worse... being blown to bits or watching it happen. With all the blood that soaked the once dry, now damp earth... Rick wondered how many times he’d pass the spot in the nights to come... to see a stain still deep in the ground. A ghost. Haunting him.

Tch. Hearing Merle speak with such indifference to being head-butted was something that bore down on Rick’s last remaining nerves. How the rasps echoed just beside his ear, making the hunter wince and grimace. Merle, hm? He’d remember that name. He’d remember _all_ of them.

It physically pained Rick to see them hoist up the tattered partner he used to joke with on the lonely plains... used to share rounds with at the town taverns... used to shoot cans with to pass the time. Shane looked like an old scarecrow, limp and sickly, clothing tattered and torn where that _Lucille_ had sunk her teeth into. Chunks missing. It was sickening. Leaning forward, though not going far, Rick’s blue eyes kept solely on Shane. This was his punishment... for getting them both into this mess. His punishment to watch. He wouldn’t let Shane leave this life alone... even if it was his fault in the first place.

_What was this asshole talking about now?_

The quick exchange in words between Merle and Negan made him twitch apprehensively. It probably wasn’t the chilly winds that soon caused the hunter to start trembling, small shakes wracking through him as shock finally started to kick at his bones. A time ago Rick would boast that he had a stomach of steel... he hoped that was true enough now. Then came the speech. The assault of knives that ripped straight through Rick’s heart... how this would be something he’d live with for the rest of his days.

They agreed on one thing... this bravery was something to be remembered and respected... but it didn’t stop the oncoming finale.

Shane... _Shane.... I’m sorry.._

Then that was that. That deafening crack that boomed across the expanse of solid earth and rock. The spray of hot thick blood that splattered across Rick's form, staining a spray of ruby into his clothes. Unfortunately jolting did nothing to prevent it. Merle was set in his ways, set on making sure the younger male would get a proper face full of it even if that meant he too would be covered in the foul mixture of blood, sweat and brain. Brittle chips of skull hissed through the air. The stench of metal, like rust... rust followed by a foul stench of death. The shaking became violent for a few moments, the streams of red dripping down his face, already clotting against his skin.

The now lone hunter wasn’t paying attention to the complaints that the bloodshed had provoked, eyes hazing as they failed to focus on the remains that lay before him. The strong arm around his throat tightened painfully for a second before releasing, Merle giving a dark chuckle before spitting at the ground close to Rick. He didn’t care... he truly... didn’t care. Rick wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, too dazed to move.

Sinking into a more comfortable position, bound wrists resting on the soil between his legs, a mess of curls now speckled with crimson drifted over icy-blue eyes, the breeze whispering softly over each lock.

Rick heard the low drawl of the leader’s voice beckon him out of that daydream... that liminal space in time where nothing was truly sinking in. He tensed as Negan gave a nudge at Shane’s lifeless form, a dangerous blackness shot through his usually colorful eyes. How _dare_ he touch him? It hadn’t even dawned on Rick to swipe at his face in a bid to stop the blood from dripping so much, a small number of drops sinking into the earth as they fell like small rubies. _Kids... his kids._

“Don’t you so much as fuckin’ breathe a word to me...” he whispered, voice hoarse, quiet and ghostly.

His words were laced with such hatred... such pain. When their eyes met, he held the same bitter spikes as the snow in winter, biting back into the warmer, darker whiskey eyes of the older male. Even his voice held a chill. A feral drive set behind two sunken eyes, tears still glistening, the shine of red still clinging to his weathered skin. The anger was painful. So painful it almost made him sick to speak. Where would he go from here? What would he tell the kids? Could he even go back there? Not like this...

“I... I’m gonna find you... you’ll hang for this.” he hissed, shakes returning as his chest tremored.

-=-=-=-

Negan didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated by the threat that he would be hunted down. It wasn't anything new. Hell, he was used to it, and he'd be genuinely surprised if Rick _hadn't_ told him he would hunt him and make sure he hung for his crimes.

Still, hearing it whispered with such rage and such conviction, as if Rick truly believed that he would succeed one way or another... it sent a delicious shudder down his spine, and he fervently hoped the threat wasn't an empty one.

“Wow, Ricky... I might hang, I might not. Time will tell. But let me tell you somethin'.” Negan knelt down, lowering himself until he was face to face with the hunter and reached out, gripping the man's chin in a mercilessly tight grip.

“There's a price on my head in five different states. I've been hunted down by bounty hunters more skilled and more experienced than the two of you combined, and I'm _still_ here. Still walkin' the open plains, still breathin' in the sweet air of freedom. So if you're gonna threaten me with a good time, Ricky... you better damn well make sure you can pull it off.”

Chuckling Negan inhaled deeply, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs and reached up with his free hand to remove the cigarette. Dark whiskey colored eyes gleamed viciously as he exhaled, blowing the acrid smoke into Rick's face, keeping a firm hold on his chin so he couldn't avoid it. “I'll be keepin' an eye out for ya.” Patting Rick's cheek the outlaw stood up and walked away, leaving Rick alone with the mutilated corpse of his best friend while the rest of the gang hustled about to finish packing.

As usual Carol made sure everything was done in a quick and efficient manner, barking orders at the men to pack everything up neatly and swiftly. Honestly Negan wasn't sure what he'd do without that woman; Carol was a force to be reckoned with, taking no bullshit from any of the men and she could fight as well as the rest of them... at times she scared even him. No one, not even Simon who was his second in command, talked back to him, but Carol held no such qualms. If he did something she didn't like, she'd let him know, loud and clear.

He might lead the gang, but she ruled the camp.

Before long the last few crates were packed up and the horses and wagons readied for travel. They were ready to go, except there was one last thing he needed to take care of.

Rick was where he'd left him, a sad heap of a man mourning his dead friend. Negan strolled over and dropped their satchels in the grass in front of him; there was nothing in them that he wanted to keep except the money and their guns, and the satchels themselves were worthless. Reaching down Negan grabbed Rick's bound hands and used his knife to cut through the ropes keeping them tied, shoving Rick back down when he was free.

“I'll let you keep the horses, I've no use of 'em.” The nearest town wasn't too far away, an hour ride at the most so even without any weapons, Rick should be able to make his way back in one piece. What he did with the body of Shane though, Negan didn't care. Take it with him, bury it or leave it for the vultures and coyotes to feast on, that was up to Rick.

“Good luck out there, hunter.” Sheathing his knife Negan turned around and walked back to the wagons, waving at Rick over his shoulder. “Maybe I'll see ya again! Ta ta.”

-=-=-=-

Ugh. Ricky. Ricky. Ricky.

It made him out to be a joke, something harmless. He’d prove Negan wrong on that account. Cerulean eyes watched cautiously as Negan knelt down in front of him, belt and varied buckles clinking faintly as a strong hand reached out. His jaw was taken, grip firm, causing Rick to wince and strain at the tight rope that bound his wrists to each other. Roving a good look over the leader’s face, close enough now to see past the shadows that hid his eyes away, Rick was almost startled by the deep darkness that struck through him.

The stories hadn’t failed to miss out just how many hunters and men of the law had chased this one. Chased him into the far side of the plains, some tales speaking of horses returning to town without a rider. Men had tried. Men had failed. Men had gotten so close to have it cut short. But Rick... Rick wasn’t most men. Gritting his teeth, shoulders tensing up under his disheveled jacket, he tried not to react though that thick cloud of smoke stung at his eyes and burned his nose as he couldn’t stop a fraction from forcing itself down his throat. Head straining unsuccessfully in a bid to turn away, the hunter gave a few hoarse coughs, blazing blue sparks soon returning to clash with warm amber fires. The patronizing pat of smooth leather scratching at his face made the male flinch, gaze falling to the dirt as the _murderer_ moved away.

He resented this new feeling. He’d been on top of the world, roping in the wanted scum of the world. Bringing in good coin for those who needed it back at home. Negan had taken something so dear to him, Rick didn’t know how to react. Should he scream? should he call down the stars from the sky? Should he sob like a child into the earth below? He was lost... alone here in the lands of rock.

The hurry of figures blurred around him, Saviors rushing to get everything up and sorted. He caught the eyes of a few, some looking at him with such a look that could kill. That woman... hell, she had a louder voice than the leader, rising above the volume of deep grumbles and alertive barks. There was another that caught Rick’s gaze, a man with rugged, wild untamed locks that rivaled his own. A little longer, darker, scratchy stubble framing his face, holding the same eyes as those that Merle had stared down at him with. Stared down like he belonged in the dirt. Was there pity...?

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure he wanted pity.

Relieved as the binds fell from around his now reddened wrists, catching himself before he stumbled completely, Rick leaned towards what was left of Shane, his hip against the dusty soil as he watched the Savior leader saunter away like a rolling storm. Maybe he should have chased after Negan, throw common sense to the wind... but he couldn’t move. He was frozen like a rabbit caught in the sights of a rifle.

When the wagons carted away, lights fading as the small fire started to die, Rick was left in the chilly light of the moon, the soft radiance bathing him in a melancholy tint that matched his pain.

He stayed there, swaying on the ground, head tilted towards the stars before his gaze slowly fell to rest on the last remains of Shane Walsh. He wouldn’t leave him here... he couldn’t.

Pushing himself up with an huff of air, he took two or three steps forward, the glisten of red becoming clearer and clearer, flesh blown to bits. Dropping next to the body a shaky hand reached out, resting on the cooling but firm chest of the corpse. He couldn’t hold it anymore... couldn’t choke back the sobs. A loose fist tightening in his stained shirt, the lone hunter started to sob, tears finally falling before he gave a painful scream, body swaying backwards at the force.

A scream that wracked through the desolate miles of dry earth... a cry of pain and anger that caused the startled ravens that had gathered to rush into the air.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! We wanted to get the art for this chapter done first, but artblocks happened and yeeeaaaah. :') So the art will come later but to make up for it, this chapter is twice as long and really kicks things off, because this is where the real story begins.
> 
> We're really grateful for any and all support that comes our way, it's really motivating. We are quite a bit ahead with writing and we're very excited to share future chapters. And hopefully the next chapter won't take as long lol.
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The melody of buckles as they jingled against each other, the rustle of leather on rough cotton and straw. A glint of metal hoops, the ruffled leather chaps of a lone hunter riding into town. The murmurs of wittering wives, rocking in their wooden chairs as his trusty shire paced past, its coat a healthy sheen. As if the ravens had given its feathers to the stallion. The sun blazed at his back, a shadow cast forward onto the weathered road in front of him, grit flying as a cart rattled past. A group of young children, all wide-eyed and curious on the way. Less than subtle. More subtle than the wives that is-

_Look... that horse... it’s huge... a shire... y’know who that is, don’t ya? Shh, he’ll hear-_

Rick Grimes, riding into town, hat low over his brow, holster jumping with each strong stride. Laying a heavy handed pat on the shire’s shoulder Rick gave a gruff rumble of praise and swung a leg over before leaping down. Dust kicked up around him, eyes prying at the figure as he led the mighty creature towards a free post, tacking the precious animal safe and secure.

“Easy Arawn... easy...” he hushed, hand smoothing up the large bridge of the raven-colored stallion’s nose. Arawn gave a heavy rumble, deep breathing rattling in his broad chest.

If that dark night on the plains told him one thing, it was that in the end... to be alone was to be without a tether. It meant if you were snagged in a trap, nobody would fall with you. But hell if it hadn’t haunted him since. The ghost of blood on his face never quite washed off. The early morning that followed the incident, he had hauled himself and Shane’s corpse through town after town and he'd been a sight to behold; a man riding in from afar, covered in blood, danger in his eyes. A bunched wrapping of a beige sheet steadily seeped with ruby, sticky and warm. Women near the tavern had shrieked upon seeing it, children up and early grabbing for their mothers’ hips. It was unspoken, but that morning stories were told. The story of the lone hunter... the one that came back after a meeting with the devil himself.

His daydream cut short, the painful memories sated for now, Rick dove a hand into the leather saddlebag. A small clutch of coin from a last bounty rattled in his hand. Tightening in grip, his free hand tucked in the loop of his belt. If Shane’s sacrifice was worth something, Rick would have never tucked tail and cowered. If anything it filled his heart with a coldness... a coldness that had proved to make him a legend of sorts. Grimes. A lone hunter that had never missed a shot... had never missed a bounty... all but one. That marked his story, the hunter that was chasing the sun down until the moon rose... the hunter that was trying to run the devil off his feet.

-=-=-=-

It was a brisk morning even this late in May. The sun had only just risen, bathing their camp in pale golden light, promising another pleasant day. It was a nice place to camp, out here on a ridge with a patch of forest separating their location from the road that lead to the town of Somerville. It was a good place to lie low for a while, far enough removed from the states where they were wanted men. So long as they kept a low profile it was unlikely anyone would recognize them here – Daryl had checked the local sheriff's office the day after they arrived, a week ago, and had found no bounty posters involving any of 'the Saviors'.

For now, they were safe.

Even so, Negan had no intention to tempt fate and stay in one place too long. It was too risky, there was always someone out there on the lookout for him and his people, and it was up to him to make the decisions that kept them all safe. It had gotten more difficult these last few years... the world was become more and more civilized, less wild, less _free._ Before long there would be no more room for people like them.

To be honest, he felt like he was getting too old for this lifestyle, but there was no really getting out of it either. Outlaws for life and all that.

Not that he was having a change of heart or anything like that, he'd be the last person to renounce his ways and go onto the straight and narrow. It was just... these last five years had been _really_ difficult, trying to do this alone. Sure, he still had his gang, they were a close-knit group almost like family, but there was a key figure missing and without her... what was the point? The fact that he had people still relying on him was the only thing that kept him going nowadays, kept him wanting to work for it, to make things better for them.

It was like wherever he went, Negan would see _something_ that would remind him of Lucille. They'd been through here once before, nearly a decade ago... Somerville had grown since then, but it had been a shit hole then and it was still a shit hole now. It provided opportunities though, to make a good deal of money if they played this right. It was money they needed. Preferably Negan wanted to get enough money that they could leave, _really_ leave, and move down to Cuba or Haiti or down to Mexico, somewhere where the bounty hunters wouldn't or couldn't follow.

The constant game of cat and mouse was getting old, and he was tired of it.

For now though he had no choice but to keep going. There was work to do and Lucille wouldn't have wanted him to give up, tempting as it was at times.

Taking one last drag of his cigarette Negan dropped it on the ground and dug his heel down onto it to snuff it out, and pushed away from the wall of the doctor's office he'd been leaning against. This was the first time visiting Somerville since arriving in this area a week ago; Carol in particular hadn't been pleased with his insistence he check out the town himself, saying it was too much of a risk, but there was no active price on his head in Tennessee so he felt quite safe showing his face here. He wanted to get a good look at the town himself, scope it out, get an idea of the layout and what they could do with it, figure out if it would be worth putting in time and effort. He could've sent someone else, Simon knew what to look out for too, but Negan trusted his own judgment best.

He reached up to adjust the strap of his satchel; it was heavy after a trip to the general store, buying goods like a regular person – that was key when entering a new area, to slip into the role of friendly visitor and not draw attention to oneself. Some of the boys had accompanied him to town and they were currently all in the saloon for drinks, but not after a firm warning to not cause trouble.

Stepping off the porch Negan made his way down the street, weaving through the crowd. He stopped briefly to let a woman pass, tipping his hat to her with a soft “Ma'am.” before continuing on until he reached the hotel, where they'd left the horses.

His trusty warmblood spotted him coming, lifting her head and whinnying loudly for his attention and as soon as he got within range she dipped down and nosed at his pockets. “Alright, alright, you spoiled brat.” he chuckled fondly and pushed her away so he could reach into said pocket and retrieve a small handful of oats, holding it out for her to take.

Someone had parked a monstrous giant of a shire next to her, its black coat gleaming in the light. He could just see the tip of the worn leather hat of someone standing on the other side of the horse, hidden behind the sheer bulk of the beast. Jesus... overcompensating much? A horse like that just made for a bigger target.

“That's a fine animal you got there, pal.” he said – hey, credit where credit was due, it _was_ a good looking horse – and flipped open one of his own saddlebags, beginning to transfer over some of the heavier things he'd bought from his satchel.

-=-=-=-

God when was the last time he organized these bags? Hell, there were clusters of crumpled papers everywhere, old posters he had collected as he went on each bounty. Frowning he pulled a bunch out, leaning against the bulky stallion as he took his time sorting through them. Rick found it almost amusing that he could put all his weight on the animal and Arawn wouldn’t move an inch... was even worse in the early mornings. Arawn was definitely not a morning horse. The days were usually like this: he’d ride into nearby towns, let Arawn have a good rest whilst he’d retire to a tavern or liquor shop to get some much needed refreshment. It wasn’t shameful, at least not to Rick, to admit he was a bit of a drinker. He was always quick to drink whiskey... but since back then he’d only gotten worse. Everyone had their vices. That was his.

It took the hunter a while to get acclimatized to the town. Sometimes the States would just meld into each other, tumbling lands holding no visible borders aside from the charming signs that could use a good lick of new paint or varnish. It wasn’t surprising how many lone riders got lost; hell, Rick had a few times. Somerville was calm though, considerably calmer than other towns he’d strode through recently. He gathered that maybe it was too early for drama - all it took for a fight to start was some fool to look at another in the wrong way. It wouldn’t shock anyone to know he’d gotten into a fair few brawls himself... standoffs usually followed when talk finally spread of Rick Grimes, the lone hunter. How the bulky, proud types would throw their weight around, less than savory about his reputation for one reason or another. Though... words were cheap, and they always landed like sacks of rocks before long.

Giving a deep grumble as he folded the tattered papers over each other and stuffing them back into the leather satchel, Rick gave Arawn a firm pat on the shoulder, met with nothing but concrete muscle. “Tch. Someone’s getting fat. We gotta put you on the thin feed for a while.“ he teased, earning a dissatisfied snort from the stallion in question. Horses were smart. Sometimes they were smarter than their riders. Such a respect should be held towards a horse like Arawn... he’d gotten Rick out of a few scrapes in the past, that much he was thankful for.

Speaking of horses, the shrill whinnying of what he assumed to be the neighboring mare rang in his ears. He’d given her a quick glance, noting the healthy sheen of her coat and the comfortable balance of lean muscle. Heh. _My horse is bigger._ Mares were always the vocal ones, and a part of Rick wondered if he should’ve opted for a mare... stallions were strong but hell if they were headstrong.

Fixing the stirrups up onto the saddle and securing the leather bands with a quiet rustle, Rick’s attention turned to the gruff voice praising Arawn. Huh. Since when was someone there? Could’ve sworn a minute ago... never mind. It was impossible to see over Arawn's back so Rick didn’t pay much mind to the... oddly familiar voice. He couldn’t put his finger on it, like it was such a distant memory, a glimpse of someone. It was starting to bother him. A rising tension in his chest. Something wasn’t quite connecting in his head yet, but the rest of him was uneasy. Probably a consequence of his lacking in social skills. Just leave the guy be.

“Hm... probably has more brawn than brain.” he rumbled in response, causing Arawn to curve his strong neck, giving a small shove to Rick’s side. “Hey, less o’the attitude-“ he huffed, directed towards his oh so smart horse. His voice was low and gruff, quieter than usual. He wasn’t much of a talker.

Wild curls swayed over his eyes, belt rattling as he moved to the front of the stallion to adjust the bridle, he couldn’t help but treat himself to a quick glance at whoever his neighbor was. Running his fingers over the smooth leather, his free hand scratching over the stubble of his chin, blue eyes flitted up towards the figure. The man was dressed in considerably dark gear. The glinting of buckles, lining from his boots, to his belt, to the hat he wore and the feathers that decorated it.

That’s when Rick felt it. A stabbing, _burning_ pain right in his chest. His breathing ceased, frozen. The calloused hand that smoothed over the tanned leather of Arawn’s bridle stilled. It had taken all of a few seconds to recognize him. His free hand was already lowering to reach for his holstered pistol, gliding a hand over it and smoothing fingers over the leather, tapping over the silver buttoning as if he himself was on the fence. Was this really him or was he hallucinating? Was all that time out there finally starting to take effect? He could only see a little over half of the man’s face due to the angle, but that was enough. Enough to see that not much had changed. Negan was looking a little more tired around the eyes but otherwise... no, he was the same face that had murdered his partner. He was standing right there. Right in front of him!

The warmth of the sun had long since lost its comfort, a ghostly chill settling. The atmosphere was growing quieter. Too quiet for Rick’s liking. His trusty stallion could sense the shift in tension, ears flattening as he snorted, sinking his powerful hooves into the earth.

“You’ve _got_ to be kiddin’ me.” the hunter uttered breathily, completely and utterly dumbfounded.

-=-=-=-

More brawn than brain, huh? Pfft. Well, that goes for most, horses and people alike. Hell, the horses were smarter than most people he'd met, and horses could be pretty fucking dumb at times, so go figure.

Negan snorted in response and shook his head, not willing to actually grace that response with an answer. He wasn't here to make small talk with a stranger, he'd done what he needed to do today and now he was eager to go back to camp and kick back for a bit, away from the hustle and bustle of this town.

The other man fortunately didn't seem too eager to carry on a conversation either, grumbling to his horse instead, which was just fine by him.

Transferring over a few boxes of shotgun shells for Lucille Negan glanced up, looking at the big shire and the man hiding behind it, though he still couldn't see him well. Really, a horse that size should be pulling carts and stage coaches, or be put to work in the field. Meh, not his problem though, he mused as he shoved the boxes deep down into the saddle bag. He'd left Lucille back at camp, he didn't usually bring her with him when he was out scoping out a new area and didn't want to draw attention to himself.

Double-barreled shotguns were a dime a dozen, but Lucille had that unique factor to her and over the years, well... he'd built quite a reputation with her. The last thing he needed was for anyone to recognize the engravings on the weapon and link it to him, realize who he was. He was an unknown face here, just another stranger, and he preferred to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Besides, in the case of trouble his pistol would do the job just fine.

With most of the heavier items transferred Negan buckled the saddlebag closed, unaware of the stares, the heavy silence that had fallen over them. Amaris was nosing his pockets again, nipping at it with her lips in an attempt to open it, and Negan rolled his eyes. “I already gave you a treat, you fat ass.” he scolded though there was no bite behind the words. It was bad enough that Sophia spoiled the horses rotten, sneaking them treats or when she couldn't, collecting grass to feed to them. Negan didn't really have the heart to tell her to stop doing it but he'd done it anyway... with a detour, by getting her mother involved so he wouldn't have to tell the girl himself. Too many snacks just wasn't good for them. It was no wonder Amaris was looking for treats again.

It took a second for the next words to really filter through and Negan frowned, curiosity tugging at his mind. Y _ou've got to be kidding me, what??_ The fuck was this guy talking about- whiskey brown eyes widened when he finally got a good look at the stranger, who wasn't a stranger at all despite the fact he hadn't seen this man in half a decade.

He could never forget those sharp blue eyes, piercing like shards of ice.

“Ho-leeeee _shit._ ” What were the odds! Chuckling Negan braced his elbow against Amaris' saddle and propped his chin in the palm of his hand, the epitome of casual as he smirked at Rick, though hidden behind the bulk of his steed Negan reached down for his pistol... just in case. “Look who it is! Ricky Dicky Grimes. How ya been?”

-=-=-=-

Why did it have to be here, right now at this time, that Negan would show his smug face. That smirk hadn’t faded in the slightest since their last meeting. The sinister darkness dressed in an eerily casual tone and posture. It set Rick on a knife’s edge, tetchy, but he couldn’t afford to draw. Not here. Arawn was stressed as it was, smart as to why his rider was so tense, nervously nosing at Rick’s upper arm whilst his ears remained flat.

_How had he been? Really?!_

That oh so casual tone was like nails on chalkboard. Cast over by a blanket of shadow, Rick narrowed his gaze, a dangerous, untempered anger just under the surface of those bright blues, scratching in a bid to tunnel up. That appalling nickname had only gotten worse it seemed, drawing a disgruntled huff from the lone hunter as his hand lay comfortably over his holster. He wouldn’t draw. Not here.

“Bout as good as ye can be with folks like you still roamin’ around.” he barked, tilting his head up slightly so those piercing eyes of ice could send daggers straight at the other. A part of him wondered what he was doing here... though maybe it was just a stop by. Did the people of Somerville know? Perhaps not. Even Rick had noticed the lack of posters around that showed any of Negan’s gang. They weren’t wanted here... but that didn’t mean stories couldn’t travel. Hell if he knew that much.

“You ain’t got money over your name 'round here, hm? Think that’ll stop people from findin' out who you are if I gave a holler?” Rick dared to warn, the hand that lay on Arawn’s bridle smoothing over the stallion’s cheek, down the muscle of his neck before falling to rest on the seams of his belt. Shifting a fraction, his eyes searched for something. _She_ wasn’t here. That... _damn_ shotgun. The one that tore Shane apart. That confirmed Negan’s reason for coming here... he surprisingly wasn’t here to cause trouble and likely didn’t want to be recognized.

_Tch. Sucks for him that Rick was here to make his day turn sour._

“How ‘bout you come round the horses n’we can chat then? Unless you’re happy cowerin' behind mine for the time being like an old dog.” the hunter taunted, his cotton shirt ruffling as his chest heaved heavy breaths.

The younger male was trying his best to keep himself somewhat calm, somewhat steady. Even if all he wanted right now was to blow this guy’s brains into the air... but then again he’d happily watch him hang. Food for the birds and buzzards... about as much of a burial as Negan deserved.

Backing off a few steps, he slowly leaned to secure the still open satchel hanging from Arawn’s saddle, a distance soon set between them. If Negan decided to ride off, he’d sure as hell follow... though if he was here, that meant he had to have a camp nearby. Rick was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d be torn apart by bullets if he got too close. Hopefully Negan would throw him a bone and agree to chat.

-=-=-=-

Jesus. Grimes still had a stick up his ass after all these years. No, not a stick or even a branch. It was a whole goddamn tree trunk he'd somehow managed to wedge up in there.

Folks like him, huh? “Well ex-fucking-cuse me then.” he chuckled and raised both of his hands, palms facing outwards, holding them there for a few seconds before dropping them again. “If you must know, I'm just passin' through. Stocking up on supplies and all that.” He patted the heavy filled saddlebag for emphasis. “Wasn't actually plannin' on causing trouble. Been through here before years ago, I actually kinda like the place.” That was a blatant lie but Rick didn't need to know that, now did he?

“But...” The casual smirk remained in place but Negan's voice dropped an octave, a clear warning in his words. “I _don't_ want you t' holler because then I'll be forced t' retaliate an' like I said, I ain't here t' cause trouble. I'd _hate_ for you t' force me to ruin this day for all these fine people here. So lets not, hm?”

No. Really. He wasn't interested. If Rick wanted to hold a grudge, fine, hell he wouldn't even blame him for it. And he'd be the last person to say _'it's been five years, get the fuck over it'_ because that would just make him a hypocrite... it had been five years since Lucille too, and he still wasn't over her death either. So he could understand Rick's attitude. No doubt he was one of the persistent hunters who'd been on his trail these last few years. Even so, he literally wasn't interested in drama today.

Dark eyes watched the hunter's every movement as Rick stepped away from his horse, and Negan scoffed at his next words. Oh, trying to bait him now, eh? Implying he was a coward if he didn't play into Rick's hands and move exactly where he wanted him? Hell no... one of the reasons why Negan had survived this long was because he was smarter than that and had a firm grip on his own temper.

“I dunno, Ricky.” he laughed quietly. “I got the feelin' it ain't just a chat you're after. And besides, I ain't hidin' behind your beast of a horse, I was simply mindin' my own damn business with mine gettin' ready to leave. If you're gonna accuse me of shit you better get your facts straight first. Remember what I told you about consequences... you don't have a friend with you this time, willin' t' be a meat shield for you. So you better watch your words an' think twice.”

His gaze flicked away to watch something behind the hunter and Negan's smirk widened. Aaaah good timing, the other guys who'd accompanied him to town had just left the saloon and made their way over to the hotel as well. They'd parked their horses a little further away. Negan waited until they were within normal hearing distance, coming up behind Rick, and straightened. “Simon!”

“Yeah boss?”

Negan swept his hand in a broad gesture to indicate Rick, four pairs of eyes curiously following the movement. “You remember Rick the Prick Grimes, don't you?”

Merle immediately burst into hysterical chuckles and Daryl merely frowned, eyeing Rick from behind a curtain of dark stringy hair. Simon's hand drifted down to his revolver.

“At ease, fellas.” Negan mused and reached for Amaris' reins. “As I told him, we're not here lookin' for trouble... unless he gives us a reason for it. And if he's smart, he won't.”

Alden's youthful voice piped up next, “Wait, who is he? What's going on?” he asked, large curious eyes looking at Rick and the huge horse next to him. He was clearly impressed, but also intimidated, nervous, wary. “I think I've heard that name before but...”

“He's one of them bounty hunters.” Daryl grumbled, voice gruff, and Alden paled, quickly taking a step back.

Pulling himself into the saddle with a creak of well worn leather Negan settled atop of his horse and reached for a cigarette. “Relax, kid.” The matchstick burst into a flame with a crackle, quickly lighting the cigarette before flicking it into the mud. “He's not here for you. Hell, he's not even here for me.” It was pure coincidence they'd run into each other here. “This ain't gonna be a problem, right Ricky? We're just gonna go our separate ways, aren't we?”

And really, he wasn't asking or suggesting.

-=-=-=-

A growl was rumbling deep within Rick’s throat though he did his best to remain quiet, remain like nothing was getting to him. Arawn staggered backwards as he adjusted a loose strap, thumbing over some old tired seams.

Listening in as Negan was rambling on and on about... something, he let his piercing blue eyes flit around. Getting supplies for this reason or another. He wasn’t truly paying attention. Then a deep, dark warning came. He paid attention to that. Tch. As if people like this hadn’t seen worse. Hard times like this always came with a few shows of drama before noon. Eyes twitching as he settled his posture, trying to lax those tense shoulders of his, he exhaled deeply. Something told Rick that maybe Negan had somewhat of a point... this required a little more thought.

In any case, Negan just wasn’t taking the bait. It didn’t exactly surprise him but it was worth a try, who knew when the next meeting would be... if at all. Days and nights around were starting to play havoc on his joints... he wasn’t getting old yet surely.

Rick's skin prickled under his shirt, at the base of his neck under the collar. A meat shield? _A meat shield?!_ A growl rattled up, eyes taking a tempered sheen. That pissed him off. It infuriated and sickened the younger of the two to think too deeply into it. It was a painful memory. One he only allowed himself to muster up on occasion. If these horses weren’t in the damn way, oh he’d get a bullet for sure!

_Hang on- Simon?_

The hunter turned his head and immediately was met with a group of four, his thoughts prior being dashed. Immediately he recognized two of them, the one with a rugged mess of dark locks soon pulling at his memory. Who was the kid? Blue eyes flitted to look over each one of them, his head lowering slightly so the familiar shadow of his hat cast over them. Great. Just fantastic. Now he sure as hell couldn’t do anything. That hoarse array of chuckles stemming from Merle made his skin crawl. Heh. Maybe instead of a broken nose, the guy suited a broken leg. Or arm. He wasn’t picky.

Simon still held a permanent scowl, accusatory of all the world around him. The other? What was his name? Rick wasn’t sure but he could pick similarities between him and that Merle. Odd. Siblings maybe? He couldn’t be sure, a mess of hair hid away most features.

The kid’s curiosity was amusing, as was the reaction when his questions were answered, though there was a bittersweet feeling. The stories he’d heard most likely painted Rick in a less than savory light. Frowning under his hat, he caught sight of the older male saddling up, gritting his teeth as a question was spun to him. There wasn’t really another option.

“No problem at all...” he uttered under his breath, as if it had taken all the strength to force out the words. Stepping a few to the side, he started to unravel Arawn’s reins. Whether the stallion remembered the faces that had abducted them all that time ago or not, he sure as hell didn’t like Simon, ears flat as his big dark eyes stayed trained on the tall figure. With a gentle tug Rick started to lead his shire away, casting a gaze back at Negan.

This was sickeningly inconvenient. Straightening up into the road ahead, he swiftly hoisted himself into Arawn’s saddle, bringing the long reins up with him, the leather lashing at his chaps. Paying the group no further attention, fearing they’d ensnare his desire to rain bullets on then, he started to trot forwards, away from the deep chuckles and murmurs.

_We’ll meet again._

-=-=-=-

“Daryl, follow him.” Negan tugged on the reins, turning Amaris into the other direction. “Make sure he doesn't circle around town t' try and follow us back to camp. We'll start packin'.”

Daryl nodded and took off, and Negan nudged Amaris forward. He was already out of town, galloping down the road when he heard the sound of multiple hoof beats behind him, and seconds later Simon rode up on his appaloosa, riding next to him, frowning under the wide brim of his hat. “We leavin' already?”

“There's nothing for us in Somerville.”

“I thought we was gonna hit the bank?”

“It ain't worth it.” He could feel Simon's eyes on him but Negan ignored it; truthfully, the bank _was_ worth it, but seeing the hunter had thrown him off his game, and he didn't want to stick around any longer than he had to. It wasn't fear that drove him, he wasn't afraid of Grimes, but he'd seen the look in that man's eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who had lost it all, who was willing to do _anything_ , whatever it took to get the job done, the eyes of a predator and Negan was man enough to admit he'd been a little intimidated by it, even if he hadn't outright showed it.

And he considered himself lucky that Rick had actually left... Negan wouldn't have put it past him to refuse and start a fight right there in the street, which was the last thing he needed.

Simply put, Rick Grimes was a problem, a serious problem. It had been five years, hearing stories about a lone bounty hunter who took in everyone he hunted, and while the name had been vaguely familiar, Negan hadn't linked it to that one man whose friend's life he'd taken on that fateful night. Not until today. Somehow he'd managed to completely avoid Rick for half a decade, but he didn't think it would continue to be that easy now that Rick had actually found him, even if it was by pure fucking stupid coincidence.

He was used to having enemies but Rick Grimes might prove to be the most dangerous one yet. A bounty hunter with a grudge.

-=-=-=-

The daylight was soon drawing in, the sun hanging in the balance between day and the evening. Rick had stayed longer than what he'd intended, getting in a few drinks more than planned. Dodging a small group of young women on his way out of the drugstore, Rick was snagged by an older official looking fellow with a blaze in his eyes. Two other tagged behind him. What they spoke of next started off as a job request... ended as a nightmarish ghost story.

_Gang... murderers... traveling... whisperers... **Alpha.**_

Just as much as stories about Rick Grimes had traveled, the same had for this Alpha too. How every bounty hunter that had gone after the feared leader of the Whisperers in the hopes of cashing in on her bounty... had never returned. How the Whisperers kept growing in numbers, endangering everyone unfortunate enough to cross their path, their fouls deeds the stuff nightmares were made of. And no matter how many Whisperers were caught, interrogated and executed... so long as Alpha was still out there somewhere, they would continue to be a threat to everyone. The only way to take the Whisperers down was to cut them down at the source.

The stories had always been too far off for Rick to follow, preferring to stay away and keep his eyes rooted on the task of roping Negan in. But then again, the money was... enticing. It was never really for himself anyway.

The old men had barked about how Rick’s name had traveled, how the stories were sure to be true if he was still standing. They all but begged him to take the bounty, exchanging a small clutch of papers, to which they pressed to his chest. If he accepted this job, and succeeded, he would never have to work another day in his life.

What was he to do? Just that day he had met the eyes of his rival, sights set on taking him down and now? He had a task that would spell out his doom if he was to take it on alone. Insistent that Rick would not go alone, the scrawnier of the three men crowed about how he should find himself some help with this bounty, because if he were to go by his lonesome, the ravens may as well be picking at his bones now. The statement earned a chilly glare, one that made all three of them take a step back, cowering with their tails between their legs back to the tavern he assumed.

There was some truth... the fact that if he were to try his hand in this bounty by himself he may not even get close enough to see them, let alone bring Alpha back for judgment. Where was he even supposed to start? No one knew where she was. Even the posters failed to show just what Alpha looked like because no one who got to see her face to face lived to tell the tale. That’s all it took to instill a crippling sense of fear in even a weathered hunter like Rick.

For the first time in years he... _needed_ someone. What lengths would a bounty with a price like that be worth going? Who would he even ask. A family of farmers? Hell if he was to involve his family, not after what they had both lost... and gained. No, this required a comfortable expertise... whilst still being considerably expendable. The drunkards and pacifist farmers of the town offered no assistance.

Sighing, he rummaged in his satchel to stash away Alpha’s poster, along with a few documents. In a bid to secure them, one particularly ruffled poster caught at his fingertips. Drawing it out, his silvery brows furrowed. No. Absolutely not.

_Negan Walker – Leader of the notorious Saviors gang. Wanted dead or alive. - $$_

There were wild stories, rumors, that this man had had dealings with the Whisperers before, had worked side by side with Alpha at one point in time as allies. If that really was true, that made Negan the only person alive who knew Alpha on a personal level. If anyone could help him track her down...

But no, he wasn’t that desperate. Couldn’t be. The fucker wouldn’t help him anyway! Set foot into their camp and he’d be ripped to shreds after their little discussion. And speaking of camp, where the hell were they holed up anyway?! The Saviors could be anywhere, Negan had successfully evaded him for years.

Then it dawned on him. Dragging out a large map, unfolding it on the dusty ground beside Arawn, Rick raked his eyes over the scraggly markings. There was one town nearby, a town that a man like Rick would be desperate to go near. Desperate or stupid, but it would give him the best chance at finding the help he needed. Cursing, he crouched, setting one knee into the dirt. He could taste a bitter bile in the back of his throat, maybe a cause of over drinking... but probably a consequence of such a thought

Did he really need _Negan’s_ help?

-=-=-=-

Daryl returned about an hour later. He'd tailed the hunter, who still hadn't left town and seemed to be drinking himself into a coma in the saloon. That was good enough for Negan, it would allow them to make a quick getaway.

Simon and Merle had been the most vocal about their displeasure that they were gonna leave without hitting the bank but Negan had shut that down quickly; he didn't need dissent in the ranks and the news of where they'd be going next softened the blow a little.

  
Woodbury.

It used to be a town like any other but over the years it had been completely taken over by all kinds of degenerates to the point even the sheriff had abandoned it and now, as far as the government was concerned, Woodbury didn't exist, erased from every map that had come out in the last twenty or so years.

It was a haven for gangs like them, but it wasn't a complete free for all. The Mayor, one Philip Blake, ran a tight policy; there was to be no fighting or killing within the town, and any rivalries between gangs were to be left at the border, no exceptions and no excuses. Everyone was welcome in Woodbury but no one, absolutely _no one_ was to cause trouble.

Go figure, the town that was completely filled by the worst scum of the West was also the one town with the lowest crime rate. Such irony. It was a great place to lie low for a while though, and an even better place to pick up tips and leads, and the town wasn't too far away from Somerville.

In a sense, Woodbury was like the home away from home for most of them, and Negan was secretly quite excited to be going back there. They hadn't been in many years.

-=-=-=-

It took an hour or two, maybe more, the remaining shreds of light had soon receded into the sparse light of dawn before he made a decision. Packing up hastily he saddled the raven shire, there wasn’t time to waste. He had to catch them now. The women of the night still loitering, the men who hung around the dimly lit doors, drunkards stumbling in the dark, they all saw a legend ride out. Buckles rattling, glinting like precious gems in the dwindling light, a black beast almost invisible with the lack of sun, a ghostly whinny expelled over the lands as Arawn kicked up onto his hind legs, mane flying before a thunder clapped, heavy hooves slamming back into the earth before the two rolled out like a storm. There was no telling how long Negan would stay in that town, if he was there at all, but he would have to try.

Silvery locks woven in dark brown, blazing blue eyes pierced through the dark until the dawn poured tones of amber onto his skin as the hours stretched on. A cloud of dust kicked up in a thick puff along the stretch of miles, causing Rick to pull up his black scarf over his mouth and nose, favoring that over breathing in the heavy grit.

Then came a charming wooden sign, hanging on its hinges. Dark wood, stained by rain and scuffed by harsh winds.

**Woodbury.**

A town that comprised almost entirely of the scum of the earth. Rejects and outcasts. Criminals and crooks. They all came here for relief, since the town had long fallen under the power of those very criminals. It was almost commendable that they resided in such peace... it was a town with a truce. Ironic how a town like this was found here and not elsewhere.

Slowing his mighty horse, the thick scarf still stretched over half of his face, hat casting over the rest, he knew he’d be incredibly obvious... but it couldn’t be helped. The bustle of men and women crowding in their groups, crossing from one side to another over the dirt paths, old carts and horses whinnying eerily, eyes followed his entry into town, wary and full of distrust towards someone who obviously wasn't one of theirs.

Steadying Arawn Rick slipped from the saddle, securing him next to another hesitantly. The eyes were still on him. Still watching. Looks of distaste. Looks that could kill. God, he would kill for a drink. Looking towards the saloon he read the thick words painted onto the wooden sign. _The Hilltop._

Worth a try.

-=-=-=-

Woodbury hadn't changed much. They set up camp a short distance from town near a cluster of trees, as there was no need to stay in hiding, and Negan along with a few others made their way down the main street for the best place Woodbury had to offer: the Hilltop saloon.

It was run by a little weasel of a man but Gregory served a mean drink, so despite being somewhat of a coward and far from intimidating or impressive, the people of Woodbury had developed a strange fondness for him. Some even said that Gregory had been one of the original citizens of Woodbury, even before the Mayor had taken over.

The Hilltop was crowded as usual when Negan entered with Lucille resting on his shoulder, Simon, Merle, Daryl, Dwight and Alden following behind him. They found a table near the back, ordering a whole bottle of whiskey to share and it wasn't long before Simon disappeared to a room upstairs with one of the working girls. The others fell into a game of cards and Negan contented himself with watching, savoring a cigarette while he observed the comings and goings of the people of Woodbury.

As such, he was the first to notice _him._

“You have _got_ to be fuckin' shittin' me here.”

Merle looked up from his cards and blinked at him owlishly, “Wha's wrong, boss?” he slurred and twisted around in his seat to see who his leader was staring at. The others turned around as well, all of them following the unmistakable figure of Rick Grimes weaving through the crowd towards the bar. It was clear he hadn't seen them yet, but Negan knew it was probably only a matter of time before he would.

“You think he followed us?” Alden asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, even though there was no way Rick would've heard him over the ruckus of so many rowdy drunken men.

“Maybe.” Negan bit down on his cigarette. It wasn't a common occurrence but Rick was hardly the first bounty hunter to visit Woodbury. Could be a coincidence.

“You want me t' take 'im out, boss?” Merle asked eagerly, and Negan scoffed.

“Fuck no, you know the rules.” No fighting within the town's borders. “Forget about him. He'd be fuckin' suicidal to try anythin' here.”

-=-=-=-

There was a scent that hung thick in the air. Strong booze and clouds of billowing smoke that just about hazed in front of him as he walked, silky in the lingering air. As expected, it was a raging sea of noise in here. Groups of less than savory mean pooled around tables, playing poker and other forms of quick and easy gambling. He didn’t dawdle too long to watch, reaching the bar with a huff of effort. He hadn’t caught sight of his target yet. Rick was way too far out of his depth here, feeling hesitant to draw down the scarf from his face and drag up his eyes from the ground. Packs of figures were looking at him with interest now, gruff murmurs and throaty chuckles. An uneasy ball of tension tightened in his gut, a crowding chill ruffling his non-existent feathers.

Tapping at the bar and barking a sharp order for a strong whiskey, he was met with a man who looked as if he was on a knife’s edge of passing out himself. Gregory, the little name tag on his shirt said. Within a few moments, Rick was clutching a small glass of burnt amber whiskey, eyeing the nervous bartender as it was swiftly passed over.

“You’re er... strange to come in here.“ Gregory uttered pressingly, curiously. There was a tetchiness that Rick was far from fond of. Grumbling in response he tossed a few slips of silver coin on the cracked, chipped expanse of the bar side.

A harsh, heavy slap cracked onto the lone male’s shoulder before he could so much as take a sip of the whiskey, a howling, wracking cough of laughter rattled next to him. “Well look boys! Look who it is. A proper man of the law has come round ‘ere for a drink!“ the gruff male barked, a crowd of maybe three or four nearby giving a taunting array of jeers and laughter.

Rick couldn’t say he recognized the guy- a face of scars and grit-bashed skin. He supposed it didn’t matter all too much, he was about as subtle as an old nag in a herd of prized mares. “Careful where you’re puttin’ your hand, friend.” Rick gave as a hollow warning, icy gaze clawing at the corners of his eyes, still hiding behind a haunting shadow. The reaction had caused the small group to shift and chuckle amusedly. The strong hand that had left a sting against Rick’s skin reached up to squeeze the back of his neck, pinching at the skin under the tie of the scarf. The contact made him tense, hair bristling, knuckles whitening around the cool glass he held protectively in his hand. This wasn’t what he had come for... maybe Negan wasn’t here. Maybe this journey was a mistake and a waste of time.

“Takes in our boys for th' rope, n’he calls me friend!” the clearly drunk man called out, a roar of attention slowly drawing to Rick and Rick alone. “C’mon Grimes, what do they call you out there, huh? Dead Eyes? Let’s take a look at those pretty lil blues o’yours-“

_Here we go._

It took a sharp twist, a grip that would leave purpling bruises sinking into this poor bastard’s shoulder and arm, for Rick to turn the tables. Whilst his left pressed around the muscle connecting the neck to the shoulder, the other reached for the drunkard’s thick, pulsing wrist. With an echoing boom, the older male was slammed straight into the bar, arm a whisker away from being snapped back, straining uncomfortably as his whiskery face stayed pressed to the old wood, a startled yelp similar to a sickly coyote. A thick tussle of silvery-brown locks fell from beneath the old hat, chest rising and falling heavily. Much to Rick’s annoyance, the jolting slam of a heavy body had caused his whiskey to spill, shimmering liquid swirling in arrays of amber and sunset orange as the thick glass lay on its side.

The distinct sound of metal on metal. The strain of leather. This bastard’s little merry group were just as stunned as their friend, hands pressed coldly over their holsters. Sure it was immensely frowned upon to act out of violence in this town, usually followed by serious consequences... didn’t mean there was a tense balance that teetered every so often. Just a slither under manageable. They were still criminals. And he was still the law. Nothing friendly about that.

“N-Now now boys, come on- you know the rules. M’sure our friend here just didn’t fancy him gettin’ all handsy. Everyone just keep y’heads-“ Gregory tried to call out, one hand still clutching a small cleaning rag, both raised as he made calming waves of motion, eyes flitting from the lawman to the unsettled group of jokers.

The tavern’s bustling volume had long since settled into an low swing of murmurs. It was a swinging balance. If everyone hadn’t seen him come in, they sure had noticed his presence now. The black sheep in a herd of precious ewes. Names were quickly matched to him, tied along with a stream of stories passed from one to another. He’d been had.

“Dead Eye, how ‘bout you just... let him on up, n’have another whiskey.“ the nervous voice behind the bar bargained, the unfortunate criminal still pinned to the dark wood. Maybe not your typical standoff, but neither Rick nor the group wanted to move. Tightening his grip for a moment, he released, the battered old dog rising slowly before staggering back. Whilst reluctant, Rick would’ve left it at that... the men? Not so much.

Crowding forward, Rick’s attackers still seemed persistent. Gregory was one to raise his voice again but it was lost, swallowed up by an array of dark and dangerous eyes. “Keep outta it! We’ll take em’ out of the town border, quit your balling-“

_This might be a problem... for a later time. He had work to do._

The group were already starting to stagger out, a path of winding through gawking onlookers. Grumbling, Rick raked his gaze over the tavern, some thankfully returning to their poker games but a few still trained on his form. That’s when he caught sight of a particularly familiar man. The one he was looking for.

Keeping his posture tight, an echoing rattle of spurs span against leather boots, heavy steps making the wooden floorboards groan, long past their last lick of varnish. Lifting his head a fraction, the two rivals made solid eye contact, dark whiskey brown meeting icy cold blue. Of course they now had an audience, even Rick could feel the crushing weight on tension resting on his back.

“Apologies for interruptin’ your game... but we need to talk. Now.” he all but hissed, tone thick with sarcasm initially, understandably uncomfortable under the circumstances. This would take a fair bit of convincing... oh joy.

-=-=-=-

Oh jesus fucking christ... it was like watching a train wreck unfold right in front of them and Negan rolled his eyes, lifting his whiskey glass to his lips. “Rest in fuckin' pieces, Grimes.” he grumbled and took a sip of the dark amber liquid. What a fucking idiot... who did Grimes think he was to waltz into a town like Woodbury where everyone hated him and what he stood for? It was just begging for trouble... barely two minutes in and Rick had already made new enemies, men who no doubt would be waiting for him now just beyond the town's border.

Oh well, it was no skin off his back. Problem solved, eh? It would be one less bounty hunter to worry about.

The others were still watching Rick, as did most of the others. Negan had already lost interest and slowly twirled what little remained of his whiskey around in his glass, but he could see the eagerness in Merle. The older Dixon wouldn't do anything without his explicit say-so, and while Merle wasn't the brightest he was still smarter than Rick and knew he couldn't start a fight in here... but Negan could see he was itching to do so.

Merle's vicious nature was an asset, but also damn annoying at times.

“What're we gonna do about 'im, boss?”

“Nothing. Like I said, forget 'bout him. He's gonna get himself killed at this rate anyway. Let the problem solve itself.”

Merle twisted in his seat again and watched the group of men who'd picked a fight with the hunter leave the saloon, casting venomous glares at Rick over their shoulders, before turning his attention back to Rick. “Boss.”

Looking up Negan followed Merle's line of sight and sighed, watching the hunter approach their table with a tense frown on his face. Oh for fuck's sake, now what?! Rick looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this. Well nobody was stopping him from fucking leaving! Shit on a stick, it looked like Gtimes _had_ followed them here after all.

Scoffing loudly Negan shot the hunter a glare and motioned for Dwight to pass him the whiskey bottle – he was gonna need a whole lot more fucking alcohol to get through this night, that was for sure. And ooooh, he was _not_ liking that tone. Not at all. Who the hell did Grimes think he was to come barging in here into the lion's den and demand they talk?

“I don't think we do.” he growled, grinding his teeth down on his cigarette. “Tone that attitude way the hell down and get lost. I've already said everythin' I needed to say to you and I don't give a fraction of a fuck about anythin' _you_ have t' say.” Taking the whiskey from Dwight he poured himself another glass and set the bottle down on the table with a loud bang. “There's the fuckin' door. See yourself out.”

-=-=-=-

There was something about that earthy growl, the warning in Negan’s words that made a small fraction of Rick want to cower, tuck tail and run. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He needed the guy to listen to him. But what would he say? How would this go? Oh yes of course, I just need your help getting this bounty in- the reality of the plea was soon crashing on him.

_This was a stupid damn idea._

Too late to turn back now. Not after that little show. Squaring his shoulders and setting his gaze sternly, the hunter swallowed that balling fear that had anchored itself in his throat, sending a broad glance over the men at the table. The majority were just stunned... confused. Then there was Merle who looked like an old farmer’s hound, tethered on the thinnest leash in front of an open chicken coop. Daryl shared that teetering balance of anger and eagerness. They’d be dangerous... but the younger of the two brothers seemed a little less targeting... didn’t make him any less of a problem to watch though.

Tightening a less than gentle grip on his leather belt, Rick let his weight lean comfortably, head tilting to the side. “Nothin’ wrong with my attitude, Negan. I came here wantin’ to talk, so let’s talk.“ he paused with a thick huff, chest heaving as the words just didn’t seem to paint a good enough picture. “I'm after a bounty- one that’s more than double o’yours... trust me, I ain’t askin’ this outta the kindness of my heart but I need help. Farmers n’ men of the market ain’t gonna help me on this one.”

A reaction was instantaneous. A low murmur, a hesitant shift. Again Merle was less than subtle, a crack of laughter running through him as if Rick had just uttered an old time joke. He didn’t truly blame him, it was desperate- it was foolish- it was... odd. Like the full story hadn’t been told yet they clearly understood where it was going.

Returning his focus to the other as the swirling tones of amber soon disappeared from Negan’s glass, a tetchy Dwight at his side, looking up with curious dark eyes, Rick pondered if the group was even aware about this ‘Alpha’. Would they even care? Honor among thieves or some garbled shit like that? The wide eyes of Alden grabbed his attention again, seeing an undoubtedly painfully naive boy caught up in all of this made his heart ache.

_Oh kid. You’re too young to be here- what’re you doing?_

The force in which Negan slammed the reinforced glass with a startling bang was almost enough to make Rick jump, throat growing dry. He shoved a calloused hand into the satchel slung over one shoulder, still growling out his words. “I can’t... get this one by myself. N’hell if I’m going to lose a bounty, not one like this.”

By the time he had finished his sentence, he had pressed the paper against the table with a slam. The array of glasses as well as the emptying whiskey bottle jostled at the force... an untamed rage, a temper directed at himself for even thinking of asking this hell-sent group for... _help._

“I need your help... n’you can stay here drinkin' yourself under the table or you can read what’s on that there paper.” he hissed, causing a few uneasy individuals in the watching audience to tense. “I ain’t leavin’ till I have an answer, n’chances are you cowards aren’t gonna lift a foot out of here. But take a lil glance, I know you've heard of her. Her n’ her merry band slaughterin' people by the masses.” What he said next may as well have been yelling murder. Faces paled. Conversations were cut in two- even the clatter of old glasses and bottles silenced. The mention of a terror.

“ _Alpha._ Turns out you ain’t the big dog 'round the plains after all.” A dark volume to his voice made his tone rise above the deafening silence, a crackle of icy blue eyes fixed on the rival, eager to see how this would be taken.

-=-=-=-

Oh that was cute. The little hunter actually thought he got to have a say in anything. Demanding they talk wasn't actually gonna make it happen, and Rick was just making more and more of a fool of himself the longer he stood there, trying to plead a case for himself.

Why would he do _anything_ to help out a bounty hunter capture one of their own? Even if a lot of people in this saloon, in this town, were on different sides, belonging to different gangs, with rivalries and feuds and hatred for each other fueling them, he wasn't just gonna agree and help Rick. He cared little for most of the people here but one thing they all had in common; a thorough hatred for the law.

Ah, but he did like hearing the hunter almost beg for it though. Begging was something Rick did well.

Merle was still laughing, not even bothering to muffle his guffaws into his sleeve as Rick slammed a folded piece of paper down on the table. It looked to be a bounty poster of some kind, and while admittedly his curiosity was a little piqued right now – just who was it that had gotten Rick's panties so twisted he came looking to _him_ for help? - Negan made no move to grab the paper and take a look.

Not until the name dropped.

Merle almost choked on his spit, the laughter leaving him in an instant, casting a glance at his boss that was almost fearful. Daryl didn't react much, other than sharing a knowing look with Dwight, and even Alden had picked up on the sudden tension that had fallen over them like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating.

Something had changed, Negan's expression had grown cold, the look in his eyes had darkened, calculating and dangerous and full of burning hatred. The leather of his glove creaked as he tightened his grip on Lucille resting against his shoulder and finally, with the other hand, Negan reached out and pulled the folded paper closer, opening it.

There it was, printed in thick bold letters: **WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE, THE OUTLAW KNOWN AS ALPHA-.** A reward with four zeros attached to it for the delivery of her body. A list of crimes committed, ranging from smaller offenses like property damage and theft to the more severe ones; torture, mass murder, rape. And in the center, where there'd normally be a photo or a drawing of the wanted person in question, was just a black silhouette with a white question mark painted in the center.

Because of course they didn't have a picture of her. Barely anyone knew what Alpha looked like, except those who worked closely with her. It was one of the reasons why the Whisperers were so feared, why they were the stuff of nightmares. He'd heard the stories of those who had survived an encounter with the Whisperers, not by luck but because they'd been allowed to live to tell the tale; monstrous tales of outlaws on dark horses, their tack decorated with human bones, their riders wearing the faces of the people they'd slaughtered.

Negan stared at the name, the look in his eyes going distant as the image he always saw in his own nightmares returned to the forefront of his mind. A trail of blood dotting the grass, leading the way up a hill... a body without a head, clothes bloodied and torn, sat slumped against a wooden pole, stuck in the dirt at a slight angle, and at the very top, impaled in place, red muscle still wet with blood-

Negan inhaled sharply and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a second – that was usually the moment he woke up, drenched in cold sweat. It was an image he never wanted to see again, but also one he couldn't ever forget. It was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. A reminder. A warning.

Teeth grit Negan folded up the bounty poster with shaking fingers and shoved his chair back, the scrape of its legs on the wooden floorboards startlingly loud, and stood up. “With me.” he hissed, indicating Rick, and shoved the poster back into the hunter's hands before he pushed passed him. If Rick wanted to talk, fine, but not here where everyone could listen in on them. Negan led the way up the stairs to the upper floor and turned right when he reached the landing, making his way down the hallway with large steps and watched the doors until he found one that stood slightly ajar.

Pushing it open Negan stepped into the empty room and waited for Rick to follow him inside, closing it behind them both. He was on the hunter in a second, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and shoving him firmly up against the door, the length of his arm pressed against Rick's throat to keep him there. “What fuckin' bullshit is this?!” he snarled into Rick's face, teeth bared into a feral grimace. “You are _never_ going t' get close enough to Alpha t' take her out, even if you somehow manage t' find her. Why the fuck would I want t' help you, when I know that you want me t' hang just as much as you want her t' hang?”

With another hard shove Negan stepped back and swung Lucille forward, the double barrel pointed straight at Rick's chest. Negan's finger hovered over the trigger. “You got one fuckin' chance to convince me not t' blow you into an even bigger gory mess than I did your friend.”

-=-=-=-

The cackle of Merle near his side was enough to make Rick wince. He just didn’t shut up did he? Whilst Rick was expecting that his plea would be met with hysterical laughter and judging eyes, it still made his icy eyes blaze with frustration and a building temper. It was bad enough he was asking Negan for anything - let alone help - such desperation earned such a humored response. Merle's brisk laughter and wheeze of breath was quickly choked back, the sudden shift in atmosphere made Rick visibly shudder.

_Woah._

Negan’s expression had changed dramatically, the mere mention of a name drained all the color from his face. The hunter couldn’t say it was a look Negan wore well, that untempered coldness and utter dying hatred challenged Rick’s on that fateful night. The tumbling darkness of his eyes had turned into a shade off from pitch black, striking coals that threatened to burn right through the poster. As the rival reached forward, Rick could just see those around him shift uncomfortably, Merle taking a silent turn, which was probably one of the most off-putting reactions out of the whole group.

Swallowing thickly, Rick watched, intrigued and lured in by the reaction it had provoked. Oh, Negan surely knew of her, something about this was all too personal to be down to the stories alone. Now that... that was catching his curiosity. What was Alpha, to Negan?

The glint of Lucille caught his gaze again, causing the hunter to grow uneasy. His own ghosts flashed before his eyes in that moment, causing him to tilt his head away and towards the ground, blinking out the images that scarred his mind. He didn’t let his eyes fix on the wooden boards too long, the drag of wood on wood wrenching back his attention. The older male was standing now. Dark. Looming. Grasping the papers that were pushed hastily into his chest, he set his jaw. Apprehensively he took a final scan over the group still sitting warily at the table, before following the chilly figure.

It was off... how Negan refused to talk further in the presence of others. It filled Rick with an unsettled fever of nerves... he couldn’t hurt him here, even if that damn shotgun was proving a concern. _Relax._

The room had a thick scent of varnished wood and earthy tones of olden whiskeys, warm red walls going quite nicely with the dark oak. He didn’t have enough time to admire it though; pushed back into the solid coldness of a wall, the air rushing from his lungs as an arm was slung against his throat, the back of his head and shoulder blades aching at the impact. Careful now, as much as he wanted to... Rick wouldn’t retaliate. The itch to push back would only aggravate the pair of them.

Baring his own teeth in defense, a rumbling growl of warning rattling in his throat, Rick tipped his head back enough so the two could lock eyes. He wasn't given a chance to respond initially, wispy curls tussled and bounced with the forceful shove, breath catching in his chest as he was met with that damn thing, the barrel homing in on his heaving chest. Standing his ground, the bounty hunter forced out a string of words, tone low and equally dangerous.

“You clearly got some kinda past with this bitch. If you weren’t the least bit curious, you’d of turned me away downstairs!” he snapped, calling Negan out, not letting his confident posture falter, though hell if this wasn't making his heart race in terror. He’d seen what that thing could do... seen how she could tear a man apart. Not now. Not here. He wasn’t done yet.

“If you think I _want_ your help, you’ve got another thing comin’.“ he growled before his voice started to soften, features melting from a twisted, defensive rage to a calmer, more controlled expression. Brows laxed from their furrowed positions, the crisp blue irises still trained on the rival, tracing each twitch of an eye.

“You kill me here, you’re goin’ to have a fair bit of bother when you head back down to the bar n’ as nice as this whole little heart-to-heart is... we’re wastin’ time. Tracks run cold and these fuckers jump from place to place faster than your lil' group does. I do this shit for a livin’- we catch Alpha, I get the cash and you get to settle whatever petty score you got with her. After that, she’ll hang and we can go back to the usual cat n’mouse bullshit.” he explained as easy as he could, not fancying a blast to the chest. “Best make a damn choice before the sun sets, Negan.”

-=-=-=-

Petty score? _Petty score?!_

Oh that alone right there was almost enough to make him want to pull the trigger right there and then, consequences be damned, and his finger did twitch, pressing against the curved metal... instead Negan took a deep breath and forced himself to relax again, easing his hold on the trigger. Grimes didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, and how could he?

It wasn't a secret that the Saviors had ran with the Whisperers for a while, years ago and that for a few months he and Alpha had been allies. The stories told about it were a lot wilder than the truth, but it had happened. A strained relationship to be sure, Negan had never fully agreed with Alpha's methods of doing things, she was too cruel for his tastes, crossing boundaries he'd never cross himself, but for a while they'd been on the same side nonetheless and it had been good for their pockets.

But it wasn't meant to last and they'd parted ways. No one outside of the Saviors who had been with him at the time knew the reason behind their falling out, and neither did Rick.

If he knew, he wouldn't call it petty. There was nothing but bad blood between him and Alpha.

But that was why Rick had sought him out, no? Because he was one of the few, if not the only one, who'd worked with Alpha up close and personal and lived to tell the tale. One of the few who'd seen her real face. Not that it would make a difference... that was over half a decade ago.

“You're as shit at negotiatin' as you are at huntin' me, Grimes.” Negan growled. “Not really makin' a case for yourself here. I see _no_ reason t' help you.”

He slowly lowered Lucille until she pointed at the floor and with a flick of his thumb the safety clicked back on. Stepping back Negan's eyes remained fixated on Rick, like a cougar watching its prey, toying with it, dragging on the game of the hunt before it went in for the kill. Reaching the small dresser next to the bed Negan shoved the bible that sat on top of it aside and made himself comfortable, the shotgun draped over his lap.

“Lemme put the facts in a neat little row for your tiny fuckin' brain to understand, eh? You say you abso-fuckin'-lutely don't want my help, yet here you are, askin' me t' give you just that. That tells me you _need_ my help, you need me t' get this done, to find her and get close t' her, whether you like it or not.” And that gave him leverage over the hunter.

Negan raised his hand, his index and middle finger pointing up. “Secondly, the only time I'm wastin' is yours, not mine, because I haven't agreed to anythin' yet. Feel free t' piss the hell off and follow those tracks yourself before they run cold, because as it stands right now, you're on your own. And thirdly;”

His ring finger went up as well, and Negan's smirk widened. He was pissing the hunter off somewhat awful here and it was fucking hilarious. “You're not makin' for a very attractive offer, Ricky. Why should I risk my life _and_ an' the lives of my people for some selfish greedy asshole I don't even like, so that he can take all the credit an' cash in a fat money check alone an' we're left with nothin', only for _you_ to continue t' chase after me so that you can cash on my bounty as well, huh? Who in their right mind would _ever_ agree to somethin' like that, hm? I got _nothin'_ to gain from this, and _everythin'_ to lose.”

Oh no. No no no.

His hand dropped back into his lap, his thumb slowly stroking along the engravings etched into Lucille's barrel. “Nah, Grimey, it don't work like that. You don't get t' make demands, you most definitely don't get t' make all the decisions an' expect me t' just go along with it. If – and I'm not sayin' I am just yet – if I agree to help you, I want half of the money an' you're goddamn lucky I'm only askin' for half. If we do this that means you're gonna end up travelin' with me and my boys, an' that means I can't have you causin' trouble. That means that you'll recognize that my word is final in all matters an' I don't want any of your self-righteous bullshit attitude, or I'm callin' the whole thing off. An' when this is all done and over with, assumin' we're all still alive, you swear on your buddy's name – Shane was it? - that you stop huntin' us. You get off my goddamn dick and leave us all alone. And lastly...”

Negan hopped off the dresser and swung Lucille up onto his shoulder, standing straight, shoulders squared, the broad rim of his hat casting deep shadows across his face in the low light of the room. “I want you t' ask me _nicely._ I want to know if you can show me respect. 'Cause I figure, if you can't even do that, put your hatred for me aside for the greater good and all that shit, I don't see the point in any o' this.”

And really, if Rick turned to walk away right now, he wouldn't even be disappointed. He had little desire to go after Alpha, it was a huge risk to all of them... but they could use the money to finally get away, to get out and make a better life somewhere else where it was safer... plus, he could get his revenge, the revenge he thought he would never get. Because if they did manage by some miracle to capture Alpha, hell... she wouldn't make it to the gallows. He'd make sure of that.

“Best make a damn choice before the sun sets, Ricky.”

-=-=-=-

Rick’s face tightened again as the tension rose, piercing eyes faltering as the minutes were strung alone into uncomfortable silence. He could feel his heart thudding hard enough to jump out of his chest, hammering against his ribs whilst the double barrel remained trained intently on his chest.

Wisely he didn’t snap back at the short insult, watching Lucille fall from her target. Breathing a subtle huff of breath, a sigh of relief, he slowly let his arms relax, muscles softening as the tension reduced. Those dark eyes still homed in on him, making him feel smaller and smaller by the minute. It was one of the two extremes. Rick was either afraid or a whisker away from letting his temper boil over. Neither was favorable.

Then Negan began to set out the _facts_ in that thick, low drawl of his. It was frustrating to say the least- to be talked to like you didn’t know shit. But what he said initially was... well it was true. That weight hung over his head, ready to crush him. He needed Negan. It sickened him to even think too far into it. Rick stood there as the rival continued, a smirk soon creeping up onto his face. Rick’s silvery brows furrowed, biting his tongue as to not tempt fate... the threat of getting blown to bits was still there.

_Hang on- HALF?!_

The terms made Rick scoff, unable to conceal the staggering cheek of it. Whilst yes, the bounty was sizable enough to split decently... it meant Rick was adhering to Negan’s rules. Giving him something that he didn’t feel Negan deserved.

_His word is final. Tch. Yeah right._

Then he dared to mention Shane, a creeping ghost that visibly effected the hunter. His anger had melted just slightly, twisting into a sick sense of sadness and grief. Resting a heavy hand on his belt, his grip tightened around the leather so much that it creased under the pressure. How _dare_ he mention Shane.

And HELL, the older male even dared to try and bargain. Stop hunting them? Now that almost made the anger turn into hysterics. Rick had spent a good slice of his life chasing that old dog across dust and rock.

But... he needed this help- he needed- ugh.

“Ask... nicely...” the hunter repeated, still scoffing as he swiped a hand over his tired face, scratching at the stubble there. What was he to say now? The idea of working with the Saviors was bad enough, but giving them a sizeable share of the bounty? Letting Negan take the reins? Going so far as to cut his hunt of them short? All this effort and taunting just for the other to ask him to beg.

The hunter shifted from one foot to the other, one hand still crushing his belt whilst the other raked through the curls that weren’t tucked under his hat. Things could change. Kill two birds with one stone if he got the chance. Take care of Alpha... then the deal is off. Less than honorable... but Rick was no sheriff.

“You get... half. Not a slither more. You boss your boys around, you don’t boss me round.” he uttered, skimming over the terms and conditions. The next few sentences would leave a sour taste in his mouth for a while.

“ _Please..._ you help me and I’ll huntin' you and your damn group. I don’t have a chance in hell without you.” His tone was soft, if not slightly tempered, laced with a wavering vulnerability as those cool eyes blazed like blue flames. Squirming under the heavy umber gaze, Rick let his eyes fall to the dark-oak floorboards, cursing quietly.

-=-=-=-

That's right. Ask him nicely.

Negan waited, drumming his fingers along the smooth metal of Lucille. His index finger stayed close to the trigger; if push came to shove he could level her with Rick in a second and shoot, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Not for Rick's sake but for his own. The Mayor would have him thrown out of Woodbury or worse.

Seeing the conflict on Rick's face was hilarious though. It was easy to see the hunter was struggling between what he wanted and what he needed to do. To be fair, Negan still hadn't decided whether he would go through with this himself; this could jeopardize everything he'd worked for and put everyone in danger, but for that kind of money? They needed it, the full amount. Not half.

And on a more personal note, it wouldn't even be about the money.

Once Alpha was dealt with, Grimes would be next.

Oh, and a 'please' even! Negan couldn't lie, that sent a delicious shiver down his spine, the way Rick uttered that word, soft, almost like a whisper. Hot damn, this was better than he had imagined, he hadn't asked the man to beg for it, only to ask him nicely, but he'd gotten it anyway.

Pursing his lips Negan let out a low whistle as Rick lowered his gaze to the floor. Despite the hunter's bravado and demands, he couldn't even make himself look at him now. It was more than clear who was in charge here and if Negan was honest with himself, agreeing to this whole shitshow meant that he would have plenty more opportunities to fuck with Grimes, which was... definitely tempting.

“Wow.” he chuckled and took a step closer, slowly crossing the room like a predator on the prowl until he was right in front of the hunter once more. His free hand came up and patted Rick's cheek, a little harder than was necessary before he pressed it against the wall next to the man's head. He was close enough the wide brim of his hat pushed against Rick's as he stared down at the slightly shorter man. “Attaboy, Ricky. Good to know you'll _beg_ without needin' to be asked.”

At least Grimes wasn't entirely useless.

“Half, and I won't boss you around but mark my words, Grimes... if you try t' undermine my authority in front my people, _I will fuckin' destroy you._ You travel with _us_ , not the other way around. My guys are not gonna like havin' you there, so it'll be in your best interest t' keep your head down and not make even more enemies.” He would talk to Simon and the others of course, he would have to explain why the guy who held such a huge grudge and wanted them all dead would be traveling with them for the unforeseeable future, and they couldn't do anything to harm him... but on the other hand he didn't need Rick to bait anyone into violence either.

Whether any of them liked it or not, going after Alpha meant they were on the same side. Allies, at least for now.

Stepping back Negan offered his hand for Rick to take to seal the deal. There was no harm in getting this started, if the hunt for Alpha turned out to be too dangerous and not worth the risk and reward, he could always call it off later. His word was final, period.

Still there was that little voice nagging at the back of his mind, urgently whispering that what he was doing and what he was about to agree to... would change everything.

-=-=-=-

Rick didn’t even need to look up at the other to guess what his reaction would look like. Swallowing thickly, his eyes trailed the deep grains of the varnished wood, sensing the subtle movement in front of him as the wood creaked and groaned. A pair of dark boots with rattling spurs just in sight before him. Eyes flicked up, head tilting enough to make out the majority of Negan’s features... though it felt as if there was a crushing force, a hand keeping his head hunched towards the floor.

A visible shudder ran through him as he felt the heavy hand tap insistently against his cheek, head tilting as he restrained an earthy growl, shifting with clear unease. His rival wasn’t making it easy... wasn’t making it easy to keep composed.

Sparks of crisp blue raked over Negan’s face, the extent to which the hunter could lift his gaze was limited by the obstacle of a sturdy brim of a hat. This invasion of space was making the hairs on the back of Rick’s neck stand on end, skin prickling, hackles raising like a defensive beast of the plains, caught in a snare.

Then that grounding threat came. That lingering concern that if Rick were to step out of line... it’d be met with a gruesome end. The younger male’s chest rose and fell, an icy tension between the two as the lingering scent of strong whiskey seemed to emanate from the taller figure, the subtle musk of leather and earth reflecting his own. Whilst it was a good idea to keep himself out of the target range... it was easier said than done. Tensions would run high at some point. Friction bound to grate on the hunter’s patience.

Giving a small grunt in response to the threat, Rick watched as Negan backed up slightly, extending a hand towards the very man that was so set on chasing him right into the loving embrace of a noose. A similar voice was scratching at Rick’s mind, clawing at the loner’s logic like a ravenous disease.

Begrudgingly, the bounty hunter grasped Negan’s hand in his own, giving it a firm yet slightly hesitant shake. Giving it a second or two, Rick gave a sharp tug, drawing the other a step closer as he too drew near. Body swaying in a balance, one foot leading forward as the strong pull closed the majority of space between them, the lapels of their jackets brushing if just slightly, the hunter’s breath caught Negan’s ear. A low hiss.

“As much as you may think o’me, I ain’t too keen on killin’ people for no good reason. But if one of your boys draws a gun on me first, I’m not gonna be the one hittin’ the floor. Best give your lads a good talkin’ to or that might just come to pass. Won’t be any fault but their own.”

He gave his own slip of a threat. His tone was gravelly and low, a dangerous absence of humanity as he gave those last few words. Letting his grip slip from it’s slightly more calloused counterpart, the hunter retreated, favoring leaving the room over risking any further dispute... at least not now. Not tonight.

The rhythmic rattle of his belt jittered as the male trudged down the stairs, earning a few curious peaks in his direction from nearby tables. Unsurprisingly, the table that Negan had previously sat at were also curious, daggers that could kill soon digging into his chest. Ugh. He needed a drink. An ache in his stomach that was only soothed by a sharp whiskey- or just about anything that gave as much a kick as a stubborn mare could.

Paying the table no further mind, footsteps trailed over eagerly to the bar once again, stepping aside as a rather fetching looking lady passed him by. Gregory wisely didn’t try to spark conversation, slipping him a quick glass of the familiar burning liquid that had been so unceremoniously spilled in the little disagreement earlier.

There were hard times ahead. And hell if he was going to head into them sober.

-=-=-=-

Negan had about a second to appreciate the tight squeeze of Rick's hand around his own before the other yanked on it hard and sudden enough he was forced to step closer. Warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear, the whispered threat a clear warning. Heh... he believed it, he had no doubt Rick would be quick to pull the trigger if any of his men got it in their head to get all up in Rick's face about shit. There would be a time for that later, they did need the hunter to actually cash in the bounty when everything was done and done.

Then, and only then, his boys could do whatever they fuck they wanted with him.

Negan wasn't given much of a chance to say anything in return; Rick pulled away from him and quickly slipped out of the room, leaving Negan to listen to the sounds of him making his way down the creaky stairs. One thing was for sure... things wouldn't be boring with Grimes around.

Straightening his jacket Negan stepped out of the room and descended down the stairs. Rick was at the bar now, furiously sipping from a glass of whiskey like it had personally done him wrong. There was still no sign of Simon, no doubt he was still in one of the rooms upstairs, buried balls-deep in pussy – telling his second in command about what he'd decided concerning the hunter and Alpha wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to...

“What's goin' on, boss?” Merle piped up as he neared the table and flopped back into his chair with a grunt. “You're gonna let 'im go?”

“Nope.” The whiskey bottle from before was still on the table and Negan poured himself another glass before he was even willing to explain anything, because Merle was definitely the type to make a huge drama. “We're goin' t' give him the help he needs. _Don't._ ”

Merle's mouth clacked shut, swallowing down whatever venomous reply he was about give.

Negan curled his fingers around his glass and lifted it to his lips, dark eyes glittering. “I struck a deal with him t' ensure his cooperation but I have no intention of honorin' our part of the bargain. We're gonna find Alpha an' let Mr Grimes cash in the bounty... an' then we'll kill him and take it all.” And he got to have his well deserved revenge on that bitch, which was just as important, if not more so.

Merle chuckled, visibly perking up at the news, “Oh I like that.” and elbowed his brother in the side, but Daryl didn't do much more than blink. “So does that mean he's gonna be travelin' with us?”

Negan nodded. “Yeah, and that's another thing I need each and every one of you to fuckin' understand; do _not_ pick a fight with him. I know it's gonna be goddamned temptin' to fuck him over but we need him alive and willin' to cooperate with us until we get the bounty. After we get the money I don't give a flying shit of a fuck what happens t' him, but until then, _do not_ make this even complicated than it already is. I need everyone on their fuckin' A game when we go after Alpha, so do your goddamned best t' tolerate Grimes' presence while he's with us. If there's a problem, you get me. Don't try to be the tough guy an' handle it yourself, because Ricky made it clear he won't stand for that. I hate to admit it but we gotta face facts and accept that he is supposed t' be one of their best. He won't make trouble if we don't make trouble. Don't fuckin' ruin this for all of us because you will have to deal with _me._ Got it?”

A murmur of agreements with various levels of enthusiasm was what he got for an answer... it would have to do for now. He still needed to inform the others back at camp and talk to Simon. Nodding Negan finished the remainder of his drink and pushed his chair back. “I'm headin' back, see you boys later.”

Rick was still at the bar nursing his shot of whiskey when Negan approached him from behind, feeling various eyes following him, which wasn't all that surprising considering the scene Rick had made earlier, and clapped the hunter on the shoulder. “Let's go, Grimey. Time for you t' meet the others. Hurry up.”

Letting his hand fall away from Rick's shoulder Negan moved away from the hunter, ignoring the stares he received and and stepped outside, the brisk night air a refreshing change from the lingering smell of alcohol and unwashed men that permeated the air inside the Hilltop saloon.

He leaned against a nearby post and lit another cigarette, eyes landing on the giant black stallion that stood hitched to a post nearby, waiting for its master to return. They were camped just outside of Woodbury so he and the boys hadn't bothered with riding into town, not for that short distance.

Rick's horse would fit right in, of that he had no doubt. Rick though... pffft. Time would tell but this wasn't going to be easy.

-=-=-=-

Rick was a drinker. though whiskey always left a burning fury at the back of his throat. Some were more pleasant than others. yet he’d chug all the booze he could find under the sun... still hell of a lot healthier than smoking in his eyes. Blazing blue eyes fixed on the glass, watching it glitter and shine in the low lamp-light, setting it down with a dull thud against the strong wood.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? Was all that money really worth it in the end? Who was he to know if Negan wasn’t thinking the exact same as he was... all bets were off after Alpha was gone. Unlike Negan though... Rick didn’t have a mass of people behind him. He was on borrowed time.

When did it all come to this? Such a lonely existence only to come crawling to a man that may or may not sway the balance of survival. The same man that had taken his best friend from him... his brother.

The strong clasp of a heavy hand around his shoulder made him flinch, glancing over his shoulder to see Negan looming over him. Ugh. _Play nice, Grimes. All you have to do is deal with this son of a bitch for a while... then you’ll get what you want._

Huffing as the other set his path towards the door, the younger of the two downed the last gulp or two in one, exhaling sharply as the sting wracked at the back of his throat. Pushing himself from the bar, he too made his way into the crisp, refreshing night air, the bitter cold of it hitting his lungs pleasantly. Arawn gave a short snort in his direction, ears flicking forward as Rick passed the loitering leader to tend to his stallion.

“Easy. I wasn’t gone long.” he murmured, patting the shire’s muscular neck with a crisp smack. Untying the bindings that secured his trusty steed to the splintering post, Rick didn’t so much as look up towards Negan.

“Don’t come too close. Neither of us like you too much, except I won’t bite a chunk outta yer shoulder.” he muttered shortly, tone quick.

Slinging one of the loose reins up onto the saddle, the hunter wrapped another around his hand, leading the shire around, close to his side. It was almost comical the difference in height. Arawn was a beast. But hell, Rick had a bite nonetheless.

“Your camp 'round ‘ere? Don’t see no horses 'round so you must be close...” he spoke, eyes piercing through the gloom to look Negan up and down expectantly. Arawn pushed his nose to Rick’s shoulder, blowing a heavy huff of air that bristled his curls, before flattening his soft ears upon catching Negan’s gaze. A warning rumble in his chest, a somewhat concerned whinny rising in his throat before Rick hushed him.

It may have been surprising just how gentle Rick was. How those hands carefully brushed over the softness of Arawn’s nose. The low hum in his voice as he gave steady whispers of reassurance. Those usually piercing eyes melting into gentle ripples of water. Such a fondness and respect for the animal.

“Goes without sayin’ that I ain’t straying too far from this one. Nobody touches him without my go ahead.” he added, concern in his voice along side a stern-yet steady tone.

He couldn’t help but wonder how his presence would go in the camp, how difficult it would be to keep his head down when he stuck out like a sore thumb. Raking his free hand over the span of silvery stubble, straightening the rim of his hat, he waited for the other to give some indication of where to go, favoring walking along side his stallion as to not draw too much attention immediately.

This would be something had have to get used to. Following Negan like a lost lamb.

It was only a little way’s walk from the town, the lingering lamp lights soon leaving the pair in a chilly overhanging dusk, the sparking embers of the wanted man’s cigarette fluttering in the slight breeze. Though the walk wasn’t long at all, it didn’t still well with Rick... to leave a town that provided an unspoken safety... walking off into the dark with the very man he had set his sights on to hang. The bounty hunter wasn’t too fond of starting a conversation... not that he’d know what to say. Not only was the tension as thick as a stormy sky or the countless bogs that trailed through the sparse woodland... Rick hadn’t held a friendly conversation in a good long while.

An emerging glow of warm yellows and oranges soon caught their vision, dotted here and there around canvas tents, large wagons and smaller carts that secured tied horses creating something similar to a barricade. A ring of security. The hunter started pacing a little slower, the strong stallion by his side still plodding forward. Bright blues fixed on each slight movement, silhouettes in the near distance. It reminded him of those figures he’d seen behind the fire that night... how they danced and swayed as if taunting him.

There was suddenly an array of bright eyes, fixed on the hulking beast of a horse trailing beside an unfamiliar figure, staggering as if hesitant on drawing any closer, for good reason mind you. That crushing tension soon built with the crackle of a campfire, a low-grumbling bustle in the night.

It was a sizable camp- a sizable amount of people who still stood awake too. A familiar sickness rose in his stomach, a burning of bile in the back of his throat that he swallowed down. It was all too familiar. He could almost smell the metallic pungency of blood all over again. A little paler maybe, but Rick pressed on, soon crossing the threshold.

“Your folks always look this pissed or they just happy to see me.” he feigned a joke, still painfully cold as he took note of the twist in expression from the few who were connecting the dots. A hand reached to smooth across Arawn’s bridle, protective. Cautious.

-=-=-=-

Dark eyes followed Rick's every move as he walked over to his horse, calming the big beast before untying him from the hitching post.

Pushing away from the post he'd been leaning against Negan stepped down the last step into the muddy soil that made up Woodbury's main street, and raised his eyebrows. Okay? A biter, huh? Well, he believed it, some horses were like that, tolerating no one but their own rider. “Fair enough.”

He fell into step next to Rick, or rather Rick did, walking besides him but clearly following wherever he led. Negan didn't pay much attention to the hunter as they walked, or the horse for that matter, and hummed. “We're camped just outside the town's border. No law here so we don't have t' stay hidden.” There was always someone on guard though, watching out for strangers with ill intentions. Woodbury was a haven for outlaws like them, and people who had nowhere else to go... but that didn't make it safe.

Rolling his eyes Negan took a deep drag from his cigarette and reached up to remove it, shooting the hunter a firm glare. “Jesus fuckin' christ, Ricky,” he growled hoarsely. “That's a fuckin' given. I know you think we're all despicable people but no one's gonna do anything to your horse, a'ight? We don't do that kinda shit and fuck you for thinkin' it, asshole.” Seriously, what the fuck, Grimes? Without their horses where would they go? They were as much a part of this gang as the people were, they were well looked after and everyone was fond of their steeds. What did Rick think they were gonna do? Beat their horses and abuse them? Slaughter them for dinner?

Fucking hell, that just pissed him off.

Gavin was the one standing guard, a rifle in hand, when he and Rick approached their camp site. Gavin looked a little confused, eyeing Rick warily and Negan just shrugged and motioned for him to follow. He had a lot of explaining to do and he was only going to tell the group once.

“Put him over there with the others.” He pointed towards where the other horses stood, grazing in a small area they'd enclosed with ropes winding through the trees scattered around. Spitting his cigarette out onto the ground Negan watched Rick lead Arawn to the other horses, and Gavin stepped closer. “What's going on? Who is that guy?”

“An old _friend._ ” Negan huffed, the tone of his voice betraying his sarcasm. “You don't recognize him?”

“Not really.”

“You will soon enough. Gather the others near the fire, I'll explain in a moment.”

Gavin nodded and walked off to do as told. Negan lit another cigarette, savoring the burn in the back of his throat as he inhaled the smoke. Fuck... he didn't want the others to notice, but he was stressed. Rick was stressing him out, his presence here in _his camp around his people_ was stressing him out, this whole shit with Alpha was stressing him out. No doubt he had another sleepless night to look forward to. That, or more nightmares...

He waited until Rick returned and nodded, leading the way into their camp; everyone was already gathered around one of the fires near the edge of the camp, away from the tents, the hush of whispers and soft murmurs filling the air. Even little Sophia was present, huddled behind her mother's legs, and from the displeased look on Carol's face Negan could tell she'd already recognized their guest. Couldn't pull any wool over her eyes and he was stupid enough to try.

Fat Joey shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but Father Gabriel was the epitome of calmness, as usual. A sharp contrast from the vicious glares Rick was receiving from some of the other guys, Jared and David in particular.

Frankie dipped her head closer to Tanya and Sherry, whispering something behind the palm of her hand and they all burst into giggles.

“You gonna explain this?” Carol asked when Negan approached with Rick in tow, sweeping her hand in a broad gesture to indicate the hunter.

Negan raised his hands, palms facing forward and smirked around the burning cigarette between his lips. “'Course. It's quite the story, I won't leave ya all hangin'. Who here still remembers that incident some five years ago with Evan, Wade and Joseph? And we caught the bounty hunters responsible for capturin' them?”

That rang a bell for sure, at least among those who had been a part of the Saviors that night and had witnessed their brutal revenge on one of the hunters. Negan waited until the loud buzz of everyone talking among each other died down and the attention returned to him.

He told them what he'd told Merle and the others back at the Hilltop saloon, that Rick had come to find him there, asking for his help. No one seemed convinced until he dropped the name Alpha, a shudder going through the group, and all of a sudden everyone seemed more intrigued, and most seemed to be more understanding. He explained that Rick had asked for help in finding the leader of the Whisperers because of their previous dealings with her, and had agreed to split the big price on her head once they'd gotten her after which Rick would leave them alone, and until then the hunter would be traveling with them. That for now they were allies and he expected everyone to behave as such.

Negan knew that for most of them it was a tough pill he was asking them to swallow; none of them had ever had a reason to trust anyone who worked for the government and claimed to have the law on their side. Too many bad experiences, but he trusted that most of them would respect his word on the matter and leave Rick alone. There were a few he would have to keep his eyes on though... who were more likely to cause trouble anyway.

“Can we trust him?”

Negan turned to face Sherry and dipped his head to acknowledge her. “A very good question, darlin', and a fair one.” Stepping closer to Rick Negan boldly wrapped his arm around the hunter's shoulders, gripping the one furthest away from him in a grip that wasn't bruising, but tight enough to hopefully warn the man to stay put. “Why don't you be a doll, Ricky, and answer that for her?” Negan's voice was low and hoarse, rumbling from deep within his throat. “It's them you have t' convince, not me. Better make it good.”

-=-=-=-

_Ok so there were a fair few more than Rick remembered._

Even when he was pacing slowly to fix Arawn to a sturdy tree, he felt a growing number of eyes drawn to him. Judging. Piercing straight through him like tiny pins sticking in his sides. Making sure the mighty shire was safely tied, he gave another affectionate pat before returning to Negan. His gaze was low, hat casting a shadow over his face, the subtle lines of his features giving him an endearing charm.

Bringing himself to Negan’s side, a comfortable distance away from each other, Rick gave a quiet grumble as the two drew deeper into the camp. The bright sparks of a flame beckoned him forward, a building crowd framing the comfortable warmth that it radiated.

_Oh hell- the crowd._

A heavy lump formed in Rick’s throat, all of a sudden he felt... small. Outnumbered. So much so that a nervous chill creeped up his spine, bristling at the nape his neck. This was far from ideal, to be surrounded by people who probably despised all that you lived for. Rick was no sheriff, but he deemed himself a man of the law. A man who kept others safe. Two sides of every coin he supposed.

Huh... there were kids here? That younger lad that had shown his face beforehand was a surprise... this was a shock. The hunter tried not to dwell on it, keeping his eyes lazily scanning over the clusters of faces that held a shared uncertainty and lingering contempt. It was almost startling when he made direct eye contact with Gabriel, a gaze that held a chill equal to his own. Ugh. Creepy as _shit._

The quiet giggle of the girls caught his attention, just before a bolder voice sounded over the lingering murmurs. Tired blue eyes trailed up, landing on a woman who held a maternal aura around her. Judging by the girl huddled close to her, Rick presumed it was just that. There was a respectable fire behind that face, eyes that held the capability to melt and to scorch. A woman that had probably seen and done more than you’d assume at first glance. The two locked eyes for a few moments more than comfortable, before Rick let his gaze wonder off again, a buzzing sensation in the back of his skull as he still felt those eyes gnawing at him.  
  


It was Rick’s turn to balance his weight uncomfortably, talk turning to that damn night. How Negan spoke made it sound like the incident was justified. Rick had to bite his tongue. He wouldn’t risk causing a riot. In his mind, Rick felt sure that those men deserved what they got. Deserved the noose. Men of crime didn’t deserve anything more, not in this world of dog eat dog.

_Could they trust him? What a question indeed._

Grimacing, flinching at the strong arm that wound itself over his broad shoulders, a tight grip pinching his skin, his throat ran dry. There was a visible shudder, a wracking tremor of repressed anger. If looks could kill, Negan would be stone cold in that moment. A blaze of intense, striking blue, a white-searing fire that wanted nothing more than to rage forward. Doll. He tolerated Ricky, but that? Asshole.

Best make this somewhat believable. Drawing a breath of the cool night air, Rick turned his head, tilted a fraction so those gleaming star-lit eyes could track the motion of the crowd.

“I ain’t lookin’ to hurt anyone here. But I ain’t gonna lie either- this would’ve been my last choice under different times... but these Whisperers, this _Alpha_ is gettin’ more and more dangerous for everyone. Killin’ closer to towns, more and more people. I don’t give a damn what you think of me or what I do, 'bout as much as you don’t care what I gotta say about all o’ you... but I’m willin’ to set that shit aside for now. We all got things worth goin’ through hell for... n’I’d rather just get this done with as quick and painless as possible. That I’m sure we can agree on above all else.”

The younger of the two rivals spoke clearly, slowly... and commendably calm. The voice of a leader, though a lonesome one at that. He was careful, but he wouldn’t butter this all up. The speech had caused a few to mutter, a few raised eyebrows, a few other looks of reluctance... some even shared expressions of surprise.

Gabriel was probably the only one to meet Rick’s eyes with a gentle neutrality. Not quite trusting... but curious and somewhat empathetic towards both sides’ situations. It was a frigid standoff that was bound to cause some tension. However Carol peered with a disarming precision, hand reaching to brush over her daughter’s head affectionately. She may as well be staring at Rick within an inch from his face. The bounty hunter had faced countless criminals, _but that woman was so strikingly bold, it almost caught him off guard._ Hm. Rick respected that.

There was an obvious dynamic in power between himself and that of the older male, stuck to his side, but Rick knew that they’d continue to butt heads. Whilst Rick was at the disadvantage for the most part, he had a temper and a booming tone to boot. He was muzzled for now, a loose bridle, biting on a cold bit. It was only a matter of time before he’d start to tire of it and buck like a sun-sick stallion. That was what Negan had to be cautiously aware of.

-=-=-=-

It had to be said... as much as he _didn't_ like the hunter one damn bit, Negan could listen to that Southern drawl of his for hours. He knew that half of the words that had just left Rick's mouth were bullshit, but he also knew that Rick wouldn't be so stupid as to try anything, not while he was so severely outnumbered, so for now he was willing to pretend he believed the hunter's every word.

When Rick finished a heavy silence fell over camp, stares ranging from wondering to skeptical to outright distrust pinning the hunter in place. Negan shrugged and stepped away from him. “Points for effort, I guess.” he chuckled and pointed to where the tents were, surrounding the other main campfire in a large circle. “You can set up yours over there and _no,_ you can't go an' set up your tent on the outskirts of camp like a loner, just because you don't wanna be near us horrible outlaws. There are rules, an' you're not exempt from 'm.” Plus Negan wanted to keep an eye on him.

He'd explain the rules to Rick tomorrow; they weren't anything too complicated or over the top but they were important and there for a reason, for the safety of all of them.

Negan dismissed the others with a wave of his hand and slowly the other camp members departed, going back to what they were doing before they arrived, but not without various glares shot Rick's way as they left. Carol leaned closer to her daughter and Negan caught the words, how she didn't want Sophia to go anywhere near the hunter or talk to him, before she led the girl away to their own tent. The only one who didn't seem to have a problem with Rick's presence was Father Gabriel, but that wasn't entirely surprising either. Gabriel always preferred to remain neutral and to give people the benefit of the doubt; it made him a fantastic mediator whenever there was tension between two or more members of the group, because he listened to all parties equally and without judgment.

Negan wasn't religious at all, but he was glad he'd allowed the priest to stick around.

Catching the sound of whinnying horses and of hoof beats drumming on the dirt Negan looked up, spotting Merle and the others riding in through the trees. Simon was with them and Negan sighed; he wasn't expecting for his second in command to really cause trouble but Simon did have a tendency to say what was on his mind in a way that others wouldn't, not to his face anyway. Best he go deal with that now before Simon spotted Rick.

Patting the hunter on the shoulder Negan walked away into the direction of the horses, where Simon dismounted with a disapproving frown on his face, and led the man away to a quiet corner where they could talk.

Rick wasn't left alone for long though; a soft voice cleared their throat behind him and Gabriel flashed him a disarming smile when Rick turned around to see who it was.

“Good evening. My name is Father Gabriel Stokes. Would you like some help setting up your tent?”

-=-=-=-

That went about as well as possible- he wasn’t ripped to shreds so that was a plus. The hunter could live with the glares and distasteful comments, they didn’t bother him in the slightest, in fact he’d be more uncomfortable if he didn’t catch a glimpse of the disgruntled expressions and predatory stares.

The hopes of keeping to himself were dashed when Negan made it perfectly clear that he’d be right where everyone else was. Rick breathed deeply, a heavy exhale through his nose as he crossed his arms comfortably over his chest, watching keenly as the crowds started to disperse, chatter and bustle passing him by like a breeze in the wind. The hunter had thick skin, but even surrounded by people he had never felt so alone, so out of his depth that he feared he may drown.

The thundering drum of hooves against the earth alerted Rick to the presence of Negan’s traveling companions. Happy that Negan had other matters to attend to, Rick lay the weight back onto his heels, watching the tall dark figure reach his men’s side. Oh the looks he was getting right now. It made Rick smirk darkly. They’d have to deal with him for a while... that would be amusing. Still he couldn’t let his guard down too easy.

The sound of someone loitering behind him back Rick jump, turning on his heel to lay his eyes on that same face that had looked at him with a concerning amount of softness. _Was it creepier that he seemed so content... or the fact he hadn’t even heard the man until he deliberately made his presence known?_

Father? Ah so he was a religious type. It wouldn’t of surprised him, if it weren’t for the people the guy lived with. So polite, so gentle, though he wisely held an air of caution. There was a comfortable warmth surrounding the man, contrasting with that penetrative gaze and smile that didn’t so much as falter when the hunter gave a defensive glare in return. It’d take a long while for Rick to set it up by himself, and he just wanted to rest... not like sleep was an option on the first night.

“Hmph... you probably already know who I am...” he rattled, the drawl of his voice twisting into a bitterness at the end. “I’d appreciate the help though, Father...” he spoke again, quieter, as if he was cautious to sound anything but bitter and cold. Couldn’t let this big brooding image melt into a soft touch.

Swaying his weight forwards, he trained his ocean colored eyes onto the circle that surrounded the large blazing campfire. Hm. He’d need to get his things from Arawn, hopefully the stallion was behaving. Giving a small tip of his head, the hunter started to lead Gabriel over to his mighty beast, the horse in question giving an excited snort. A strong hoof stamped into the ground as the two neared closer, an affectionate hand smoothing gently over his soft nose.

“Arawn, behave... this is Father Gabriel.” he muttered, reaching up to start untying the small straps of leather that kept the thick rolls of canvas fixed to the saddle. Curiosity was playing at his mind, a little flutter of thought that wasn’t going away any time soon.

“Does it not bother you... who I am, offerin’ t’help? Shouldn’t you be givin’ me shit like the rest of 'em?” Rick pried, flashing a quick glance over at the other as he said so. The lonesome male had to bite the side of his mouth, concealing a smile as the raven-black shire craned his neck over towards the priest. The flat of his nose pressed against the unusual smoothness of Gabriel’s head, clearly intrigued. Truth be told... Arawn was a gentle giant sometimes and it melted Rick’s frost-laden heart.

-=-=-=-

“I do, yes.” Of course Gabriel knew who he was, and not only because of Negan's introduction a few minutes earlier. If Gabriel had picked up on the bitterness and anger in Rick's voice he didn't show it, his smile only widening when the hunter seemed to calm down a little, or at least realize he wasn't dealing with an enemy here.

“Of course.” Dipping his head Gabriel gestured for Rick to lead on, following after the man in the direction of the horses. He'd seen the giant beast the hunter had led into camp and while Gabriel couldn't say he was scared of horses, he was... a little uncomfortable around them. They could be so unpredictable. He didn't even own a horse of his own, whenever the camp was on the move he traveled in one of the wagons instead. Way more comfortable.

Still, Rick's steed seemed friendly enough at first glance and Gabriel had to crane his head back just to look the animal in the eyes. “Hello there.” he mused as he reached out and allowed Arawn to sniff his hand, stroking his fingers over the velvety skin of his nose while he watched Rick begin to remove his supplies from the saddle.

The question was a little bit unusual, but fair, he supposed. Clearly Rick wouldn't easily be making any friends here. He understood the Saviors' reluctance and distrust for a bounty hunter, this one in particular, he couldn't blame them for it. But Rick would be traveling with them for an indefinite amount of time, and Gabriel prayed that things would remain calm.

“Should I be bothered?” he asked calmly. “I am not, and I don't see a reason to give you...” Wincing Gabriel waved his hand around, struggling to find a word that was a bit more proper than what Rick used. “... you know.”

Warm pressure pressed down on his head, followed by the warm slide of something wet and somewhat slimy, and Gabriel blinked, quickly ducking down and away to avoid Arawn when he realized the horse had just licked him. Okaaaaaay? That was a little too much for comfort. He'd be sure to start wearing a hat around this one.

Stepping out of Arawn's reach Gabriel fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and ran the cloth over his head. “They have their reasons to dislike and distrust you, just as you have yours. It is hard to say who is in the right or wrong and it isn't my place to judge.” He paused then, running his fingers of the soft cotton of his handkerchief, slowly folding it into a near square. Should he tell him...? It probably wouldn't do harm to let Rick know, right?

Breathing in deeply Gabriel stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and folded his hands together, keeping them loosely clasped in front of him as he raised his head to look the hunter in the eyes. “I was there that night, five years ago. I saw what was done to your friend.” He exhaled softly and shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. “Dreadful and unnecessary... Negan knows I do not condone that level of brutality. I abhor violence and though I understand that it is a necessary evil at times... _that_ was too much.”

Even with what Negan had gone through, and was still going through, it was no excuse to inflict that level of pain and torture onto another human being. They weren't like the Whisperers. Negan wasn't like Alpha. That kind of violence should be beyond him, and Negan had done Rick wrong.

And yet... a part of him also understood, because he had seen Negan pushed over his breaking point, seen him at his lowest and had seen the events that led up to it. That didn't make what Negan had done to Rick's friend, and every other innocent person he'd slaughtered, right, not even close, and Negan would have to atone for it one day, one way or another... but Gabriel understood where that violence came from.

Rick didn't, and Gabriel wasn't expecting him to. “I know it comes five years late and it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but I am deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Grimes.”

-=-=-=-

The way Gabriel spoke was so proper and polite, so reluctant to use such language as Rick used himself. It was just as amusing as Gabriel’s reaction to Arawn’s curiosity. The hunter finally gave a hearty chuckle, a deep rattle that rumbled deep in his broad chest. Clutching the heavy roll under his arm, he held strong whilst the other made work on a sizable bag.

It was true. Everyone had their reasons to dislike one another in this day and age, there were always two sides of a coin. If that... night... hadn’t happened maybe he wouldn’t feel so strongly about the group. They’d just be another bounty worth chasing. But that night _did_ happen... and Rick resented them for it.

Oh... so the Father had been there huh? The melted expression hardened once again, gaze steeling as he fixed onto the multitude of brown leather straps. Once he had flicked his gaze over to the priest, he couldn’t quite look away. His posture visibly changed, defensive and rigid. The lonesome man was about to spring at the mention of it, but then he saw a sorrow in his eyes... a pain and sense of regret.

That was unusual.

Scoffing, Rick looked back to his sturdy saddle, dropping the roll of canvas onto the ground so he could use two hands easily. Too much? _No fucking shit it was too much, there wasn’t... there wasn’t anything left... after..._

The familiar bile rose to the back of his throat again, a weight in his chest. Rick leaned forward to reach a hand up to his hat, slipping it off as the other raked through his untamed curls. It seemed the mere mention made him tense, uncomfortable, clearly rattled. Then came the soft utter of an apology, of regretful empathy, a luxury he didn’t have for all those years up until now. Icy eyes shut, deep breathing heaving his chest up and down, leaning so his head dipped just beneath his shoulders.

“Yeah well... ‘preciate the gesture, Father... but words are just words... n’they shouldn’t be coming from you anyway.” the disgruntled male rasped, leaning back up to his usual posture. Without his hat the extent of his roguishly untamed hair was visible, an endearing charm to the somewhat feral appearance. It didn’t stay long though... Rick quickly tucked his head back under the safety of the hat.

Expecting the Father may struggle otherwise, he carefully passed Gabriel the lighter of the few bags. Slinging one over his shoulder, Rick tucked the heavy bunch of canvas under his arm, muscles flexing under his shirt and jacket as he did so. “You wanna pick out a spot? You know these people better than me n’ I don’t fancy having bad neighbors.”  
  


That off-putting cold tone came back once again, as if Rick was a rattlesnake flexing its brittle coils in an attempt to ward away any unnecessary interactions. Something told him... that wouldn’t quite work with the Father.

-=-=-=-

“You're right, it shouldn't be coming from me.” Though he _was_ sorry, that he hadn't been able to do anything to stop it. But Negan wasn't going to apologize, he likely never would. Gabriel knew that Negan believed himself to be in the right, and depending on your point of view, he may even be correct. That's why all these people here followed him and were loyal to him.

Because they believed in him and what he stood for.

Besides... Gabriel would be in a far worse state, possibly even dead, if it weren't for Negan.

“So lets just hope that I am the first to say it.” Accepting the bag Gabriel walked with Rick back to where the tents were. It wasn't heavy and he had a sneaky suspicion that Rick had given him the lighter bag on purpose, but he wasn't going to say anything about it.

The hunter's expression and tone had gone cold again. Gabriel knew it wasn't personally directed at him so he pretended not to notice, leading the way around the tents to one that still had some empty space nearby. “How about here?” he asked. “This is Alden's tent, the young man I suspect you've met in Woodbury. I don't think he will give you much trouble.” Alden was easily intimidated, and impressed... he probably wouldn't even dare to look at Rick in a particular way that could be perceived as rude, out of fear the hunter might beat him for it. And besides, from here Rick would be able to see the horses, and being able to keep an eye on Arawn would probably help to make him feel a little more comfortable.

He'd gotten quite proficient at setting up tents during the years he'd spent traveling with the Saviors; usually when they arrived at a new spot to make camp, Carol and Joey were the ones who made sure everything went smoothly, deciding where to put the tents and the horses, the campfires and the wagons, and he helped where he could. Not that they ever asked him to out of respect for his profession, but he didn't want to feel like he was mooching off of these people.

He and Rick were halfway through setting up the hunter's tent when heavy footfalls made their way closer to them and Negan appeared from behind one of the tents, another cigarette stuck between his lips. “Everything goin' okay here, Father?” he asked, dark eyes drifting from Gabriel to Rick.

Gabriel rose to his feet and wiped his brow with his sleeve, nodding. “Yes, we'll be done soon I think. Did you talk to the others?”

Negan made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat and the tip of his cigarette glowed brightly for a second, a dark fleck of bright orange in the darkness cast by the wide brim of his hat. “Simon ain't happy but that was t' be expected.”

“When is Simon ever happy?”

Hah! “He's happy when he's ball's deep in pussy.” Negan snorted, smirking around his cig and quickly raised both his hands in surrender at the look of disapproval he got in return. “Right, right. Language. Apologies, Father.”

“If only you meant it.”

“Never.”

This was common, banter came easy to Negan and Gabriel wasn't truly insulted; he'd gotten used to the man's brash nature, cocky, arrogant and self-assertive. Negan carried himself like he wanted the world to hate him but Gabriel knew that there was another side to him as well. It just took work to see it.

By now Negan had turned his full attention on Rick, watching him with an intense look burning in his whiskey colored eyed. “What say ya, Ricky? Once you're done here, you dare to grace me 'n a couple of the others with your presence near the fire for a drink, or are you too good t' be spendin' time with us filthy animals?”

-=-=-=-

The gruff hunter nodded with a small hum. Yeah. Yeah this was a nice enough spot... he could see the horses if he really wanted to and that kid? Something told him there’d be no issue there- Rick could so much as sneeze and the boy would jump three feet into the air. That much was amusing... maybe it was his dark sense of humor. The fact he was either feared or resented... maybe a bit of both.

Watching as his tent was slowly coming together before him, a shared workload among the two men, Rick didn’t quite catch himself sending a few lop-sided smiles Gabriel’s way. It was nice... doing something with someone... not being so alone even if it was just for a little while. Warm. Content.

_Then of course Negan had to bring a chill._

Rick was kneeling when the leader made his presence known, concentrating on anchoring a peg into the deep, dense earth. How many damn cigarettes did the guy smoke? Rick didn’t make a huge attempt to notice Negan if he could help it, busying himself with tying knots whilst the two other males joked and jabbed at each other. It was... odd and unsettlingly foreign, how the two seemed so friendly. Even if some of the things Negan said were particularly vulgar... there was a humor to be heard. It took a little effort not to let a twitch of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

Looking up at the tall, older man with a steely yet less intense gaze than usual, it was clear the hunter was scanning his rival. Wary. Rightfully so. Tetchy still. But damn was his energy short-lived on most days. A drink? Hm. It was tempting, hell any booze was tempting. It was pathetic just how tempting it was... but with them? It was a cause for some internal conflict. As if Gabriel could offer some reassurance, his bright blues flicked towards the priest before looking over the tent. What else would he do? Did he even have any good booze?

“Hm... a'ight.” he huffed out plainly, a whisker away from dismissive. Rick was unsure if that was the best idea, to drink around these people, but a part of him had to confess that the longer he put off talking to them, the longer he played the outsider... the more and more dangerous things would get. _Play your cards right now, Grimes. You’ll get there._ “I got some old scotch. I’ll bring that.”

Pushing up from his knees, Rick swung an arm down to pick up one of the now empty bags, slinging it over his shoulder to move it out of the way. Was booze a peace offering now? Tch. He wouldn’t bring his best stuff... didn’t mean it was bad scotch though. Tearing his eyes from those dark, umber orbs, the embers of his cigarette fluttering around him like a sentient breeze, the bounty hunter sent a slightly more fond look over towards the priest.

“I can do the rest, Father. One or two bags ain’t too much...” he reasoned, giving a small pause before he uttered a very quiet word, just as he turned away to walk around the tent. “Thanks.”

~*~

It was an hour later, maybe two. The bright flares of the campfires dotted here and there were oh so much brighter now, dancing flames licking at the dark purple-blue skies. The thin array of stars like precious gems on a blanket of silk.

Sighing, Rick deposited the bottle of scotch he had mentioned earlier. It was big enough to share but Rick could easily waste it all on himself. Maybe he would. He always had more.

It wasn’t hard to find the small ring of men, chatting, grumbling and laughing away at some joke that was lost on the hunter. He didn’t sit too close. Still an outsider after all. Comfortably he sat on the dry earth, propping himself up on a makeshift log bench that was still reached by the comforting light of the blazing fires. His presence hadn’t gone unnoticed however... the familiar cackle of the eldest Dixon brother crackling in his ear, the shuffle of grit soon by his side as the male passed him to sit himself down, tilted on his axis so he could still see the hunter. The other brother was trailing soon after, though favored to sit a little further away, trying the large dagger he kept against the back of a dead branch.

This would be a lovely little get together... surely.

-=-=-=-

It took a while for Rick to finally show his face.

Gabriel had left shortly after, respecting the hunter's decision to do the rest of the work alone. Negan spotted him not too long after, sitting with the women and reading verses of the Bible. Negan wasn't particularly religious himself, and so he didn't much care for what Gabriel got up to in his free time with that little book of his, but it was pretty harmless and if it made them feel better, more power to them.

Gabriel had tried to involve him too at first, in those first few weeks when he started traveling with them, in the hopes of 'saving his soul' or some shit like that, but he'd made it pretty clear to the priest that he wasn't interested. “If there is a hell,” he'd told him. “there had better be a place waitin' for me an' I hope it's hot n' terrible.”

It had sent the priest scattering, muttering prayers under his breath and maybe, _just maybe,_ Negan had felt a little bit bad about it afterwards. It had gotten his point across though.

But nah, he honestly liked the priest, ridiculous as he was Gabriel was fun to have around and he had his uses. Misfits and outcasts, all of 'em, discarded and unwanted by the rest of society... but they were _his_ misfits and outcasts.

By the time Rick finally shuffled his way over to the fire where Negan sat with a few of the others, it was already late and most had already retreated to their tents of the night.

“There he is!” Negan chortled and raised his beer bottle in greeting. “The man o' the hour! We were jus' talkin' about ya!” Not that he was going to specify. Negan leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, the bottle resting in his lap with his fingers loosely wrapped around the glass, and turned his attention back to the darker skinned woman seated next to him. “What were you sayin', Arat?”

“I asked how you were liking those cigars I got you.”

Negan snorted and glanced down at the cigar in his other hand, smoke lazily trickling up into the air to be carried away by the breeze. “They're shit, but thank you.” He'd never been a fan of cigars but he'd run out of cigarettes earlier, and everyone knew how irritable he could get when he went without for too long, so Arat had gotten him these. She didn't smoke but she'd found a box of them stashed in their supplies somewhere. It was better than nothing, and first thing tomorrow he was going to take a trip back into Woodbury and stock up on cigarettes.

Heh, maybe he'd drag Rick along with him and make him pay for them. The hunter was the reason why he was smoking extra anyway.

“So Ricky...” As soon as he said it, all eyes turned to the hunter as well. “Surely you have some interestin' stories to share? Adventures you've been on. Anything you wanna tell the group? Or are you jus' gonna sit there and brood?”

-=-=-=-

The hunter in question was distracting himself with a long blade of grass, thin and earthy in color. Maybe it was grass once, poor thing had lost its vibrancy, now dry and brittle. Twisting it between his fingers and thumbs, he had subconsciously twisted it into a tight braid. The feathering tips swaying, fluttering like long lashes in the breeze.

Those bright blues were lazing in the distance, swaying in time to the glow of the stars, glimmering. Beckoning. How the noise around him would fade and echo. Rick would often do this, phase out of all reality like he didn’t even exist. It was relaxing and yet so startling when it all came crashing back to him like a stampeding herd of longhorns.

Huh? Did someone call his name?

Blinking away the clouded look in his eyes, Rick looked towards the group, all eyes now on him. Stories? Adventures? What did Negan think he was? The only stories he was comfortable telling were the ones where he’d rounded up criminals, how many successful hunts he’d completed - though taking in the surroundings.. not the time. Other stories and tales... well, they lay a little closer to home.

A husky laugh that sat in the back of the throat crackled from Merle like a curse. What exactly did Merle get out of provoking him? Apart from a good laugh of course.

“What? Not got anythin’ besides the drink n’those men you set t’hang? Some life, hunter.” Merle was quick to snap, earning a few gruff chuckles from those at his sides. Though Rick didn’t find the joke as amusing, a disgruntled look on his face as he rolled his eyes. Did they deserve a taste of Rick’s life? He was a bounty hunter but... that wasn’t all. It was a dangerous line to tread but... a line he’d have to toe at some point. Why not now. Get some chit chat out of the way... then after he could drink himself silly back at his tent. Sounded like a plan.

“May be hard t’believe but that ain’t all it. Used to work a ranch before... all this.” Rick rambled, leaning back a little more with a subtle tilt of his head, just so that the shadow of his hat covered the glare of the fire.

“Oh! A ranch boy eh? You went from butcherin’ them cows to butcherin’ our folks-“ Was Merle trying to start a fight? Trying to enforce a false claim?

“I ain’t the butcher here. Get your facts right before I break your damn nose _again._ ” Rick spoke slow and low. A tone that was unreadable, calm even. It obviously touched a nerve with Merle, maybe the guy was expecting Rick to be a little more exciting in his response. Daryl however pried his eyes away from the dagger he held, a huff of breath, one might say the faintest glimpse of amusement.

The bounty hunter smirked at the stroke of frustration run through the older brother’s face. For once, he wasn’t the one trying to cause a fuss. He just wanted to drink, so that’s what he did, pulling the bottle out of the satchel he refused to leave behind. The way the fire flickered made the liquid look other-worldly. Bright and marbling behind the glass.

“You smoke any more o’those things and you’d save me a job.” Rick was quiet to mutter, picking up on the way Negan took slow drags, watching the lines of his face tense in a grimace. About as much as Rick would drink the roughest of booze... Negan’s vice seemed to be that of thick smoke and tobacco.

-=-=-=-

Pfffft.

“Your concern is touchin', Grimey.” Negan snorted around the cigar, thick smoke trickling upwards out of the corner of his mouth. “Really, I'm flattered.” Sarcasm of course, but whatever got on Rick's nerves. It wasn't exactly difficult, the hunter's feathers were easily ruffled, and Negan had to admit it was rather fun. “Let's just say... I'm gettin' myself acclimated to the hell that awaits me.”

Some of the men around him chuckled. Negan leaned back, the wooden chair creaking when he shifted his weight around and crossed one ankle over the other. Merle sttill looked pissed, clearly angry that Rick had gotten in the last word, glaring at the hunter with murder in his eyes and as Negan had expected it didn't take long for the older Dixon brother to open his mouth again.

“Now you listen 'ere, you limp-dicked farmer's boy, who-”

“Merle.” Negan didn't even have to raise his voice to be heard over the crackle of the fire and Merle's own hoarse tone, but it still carried enough weight for everyone to fall silent. “Shut your damn face.”

Daryl's knife paused on the stick he'd been whittling away at but he didn't look up, merely tilting his head sideways to shoot his brother a glance. Merle looked ready to leap off the log he sat on but at the same time he seemed to freeze under Negan's cold glare.

“Why is 'e even here sittin' with us?! I think 'e should-”

“Shit me a river, Merle, I don't give a fraction of a fuck what you think. He's here because I asked him to. Is that a problem?” The older Dixon grit his teeth, quiet now, but that wasn't good enough, nor did Negan appreciate the way Merle was glaring at him now instead of Rick. “I asked you a goddamn question, you'd do well to answer it. _Is that a problem?_ ”

“No boss.” Merle growled low under his breath. “Ain't a problem.”

“That's what I thought.” Fucking idiot... Removing his cigar dropped it on the ground and rose to his feet, smushing his heel down on the glowing tip. “I'm going to bed, you boys play nice now.” Because he wasn't in the mood for more bullshit and when it came down to it, Rick was a big boy, he could handle himself. Merle was the problem.

The only reason he was even tolerating the man was because Daryl was a wonderful tracker and hunter, someone who pulled his weight around more than most and Negan didn't want to see him leave... but Daryl wouldn't go anywhere without Merle and vice versa, and Simon kept vouching for him too. Sure, Merle had his uses but he was too much of a loose cannon and one day it was gonna cause some serious shit, no doubt.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

-=-=-=-

Oh wow... now this was a real show. How Merle’s fiery thirst for conflict sparked and sputtered, held back by the thinnest of lines. How Negan’s word was taken and accepted with minimal fuss, even by a guy like Merle.

It was almost laughable, feeling Merle’s eyes burning straight through him as he busied himself with the intriguing bottle, color still swimming in curling pools and glimmering tides of amber as he titled the bottle towards his lips. The tension was rising, thick and heavy in the air but something told Rick this wasn’t anything new. In fact with the tone of Negan’s voice it was almost like this happened enough to be familiar.

Chuckling as the dog was finally muzzled, interest perking up the hunter watched with curious blue eyes as Negan stood, embers trodden into the dirt, before making a swift exit.

Nighty night, big guy.


End file.
